To Love A Warrior
by shirayuki55
Summary: AU Ichigo Kurosaki is the respected Police Lt. of his town, so it's only natural that he would expect the job of captain once the old chief retires. But, nobody factered in Rukia Kuchiki, a mysterious woman who steals the job right from under him. Sparks fly as they clash over their differing personalities and bad impressions,but will the fire between them turn into something more.
1. Chapter 1

AN

Hi everyone! Here's another story, Ichiruki of course. I know I need variety, but there are plenty of people like me who just write about one couple. Maybe one day I'll branch out, but I'm still fairly new to FF, and anyway this is going to be my first continued and connected story. So, yay for that! Okay, I'll stop my chatter and let you read.

Disclaimer-I don't own Bleach (sad sigh). If I did, Rukia and Ichigo would've gotten together a LONG time ago. Screw romantic tension, I want lovin. Ironic really since this story is full of tension. Oh, but I do own my OOC'S.

Chapter One

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDN'T GET IT!" Officer Lieutenant Ichigo Kurosaki slammed his fist on the desk in frustration. Sitting across from him, Commander Kenpachi Zaraki leveled him a hard glare. "I know damn well that you heard me and don't you yell in my office, boy." Ichigo scowled. "But I don't understand, I was supposed to be Captain." Kenpachi snorted. "Well your not. We found someone out of town with better credentials and she was chosen instead."

"SHE... SHE... WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE. I HAVE TO SERVE UNDER A GIRL!" Ichigo bellowed, leaping up and knocking his chair over in his haste. "DAMN IT BOY, I SAID STOP YELLING AND SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!" Kenpachi growled. All the energy seemed to seep out of the young man and he flopped back into the chair.

"Now, are you going to have a problem serving under a woman? Because if you are, I have no problem refilling your position," Kenpachi threatened. Ichigo was so shocked out of his mind, he could barely form a response. Finally, he nodded his head in acceptance.

That episode had happened a week ago, and yet, he still hadn't truly accepted it. As if that wasn't bad enough, he was now the talk of the town. Everywhere he turned people were gosiping about him. Nobody dared to spread rumors at the Urahara Boardinghouse, but Ichigo figured it was because his Aunt Yoruichi had threatened to take a spatula to the backside of any of his fellow boarders who so much as mentioned that he had been passed over for promotion, let alone that a woman from out of town was going to take the helm instead of him.

The worst part was that he couldn't understand how it had happened. He had always been Chief Jushiro Ukitake's right-hand man at the Karakura Police station, and hell, he had even been engaged to his daughter, Koyuki back in college. It hadn't worked out, but it had been fun while it lasted and neither held bad feelings. Well, at least she didn't anyway. As his thoughts ran rampent in his head, Ichigo arrived at the dreaded destination, Chief Ukitake's retirement party. The bad part wasn't seeing Jushiro or Kooyuki, it was everyone else.

Over the past week, Ichigo had heard many people betting on whether he would show his face or not at the party. And so, here he was, although he didn't plan to stay long. A half hour or so ought to do it, just long enough to say hello to all the people who might notice if he lacked the courage to show up. Luckily, he had to be back to the boardinghouse by nine to welcome a new boarder on behalf of his Aunt and Uncle who had plans that night. It was also lucky that his Aunt wouldn't be there. As soon as she had found out that the boarder was a woman, she had begun plans to set them up.

Ichigo appreciated the fact that she wanted to see him happy, but he'd rather find a woman on his own. Sighing in resignation, he climbed out of the car. As he pocketed his key and marched up the gravel walkway, Ichigo spotted a pair of slim, magnificent female legs moving at a good clip in front of him. At once he found himself checking out some impressive curves that not even the stylish wool coat could conceal.

Ichigo knew every woman in the police chief's life-there wasn't many-but for a moment he had trouble placing this one. The confidence of that saucy walk had him questioning his memory; besides, there was something different about the hair. Koyuki always wore her hair long and loose, the way he liked it. Tonight it was styled in classy waves that curled at the edges, and it was much shorter than he remembered, but it was still dark and thick and tempting. In fact, in the moonlight, it looked even silkier than Ichigo remembered. Koyuki looked more silky than he remembered her!

Womanhood had been good to her. The graceful way in which she moved compelled him in an alluring way. As Koyuki approached the porch where they'd exchanged fervent kisses so many times before, Ichigo felt an odd sense of deja vu. Was it posible that he still had deep feelings for her? Was that why he had never really found another woman to take her place? Was that why she looked so good to him-better then ever-after all this time?

He had so many fond memories to look back on with her. His favorite was their first kiss, which had happened under a beaming sun. She'd giggled ever after when he'd called her Sunshine. Suddenly, Ichigo realized that he did not want to greet her after so many years under the prying eyes of all the gossip-mongering busybodies in Karakura. Whatever they had to say to each other should be said outside in private. He jogged the last few yards between them, reaching Koyuki just as she pushed open the chain-link gate at the edge of the porch.

Because she seemed to be rushing, Ichigo reached out with a friendly arm to encircle her waist, about to say, "Hey, Sunshine, you never used to be in such a rush to go inside when I took you home." He got as far as "Hey, Sunshine" when the most amazing thing happened. Koyuki grabbed his elbow, jammed her hip into his leg and flipped him straight up and over the gate. Twisting sideways as he struggled to find his feet, Ichigo came down hard on the protruding edge of the chain-link. Raw steel ends clawed his jaw and shoulder, ripped his best suitcoat and bloodied a fair amount of skin before he hit the ground on his side. Gasping for breath, he rolled flat on his back before he caught a good look at his assailant's face.

She wasn't Koyuki! In a dizzying rush, Ichigo realized that this classy brunette was a total stranger. She was beautiful; she was petite; she was pulling a .38 Smith And Wesson out from underneath the left side of her coat. "Don't move a millimeter," she threatened in a dry tone. "Touch me again and your going to loose a vital part of your anatomy." "Lady, I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole!" Ichigo grumbled, suddenly realizing that fear, not malice, had caused her to react so violently to a simple touch. This stunning female had obviously been trained in martial arts.

She'd also lived with the threat of urban crime or else had watched too many cop shows. "I'm a police Officer and I thought you were an old friend," Ichigo explained, too dazed to sort everything out. His voice sounded odd and hollow. "Sorry if I frightened you. Now can I please get off the ground?" To his surprise, the woman did not immediately except his explanation. She didn't even look embarrassed. In fact, on closer examination, he decided that her beautiful violet eyes looked more fierce than frightened. Sternly she ordered, "Show me your police ID. Slowly."

Ichigo was too angry to be scared, but he didn't like the way she kept that gun trained on him. "Good God, you could shoot someone with that thing, lady." He dug out his ID and pushed it a few inches towards her. "Do you have a permit for that piece?" He didn't ask her if she knew how to use it, it was obvious that she knew all too well. She barely glanced at his identification, unreadable in the darkness, before she barked, "What's your badge number?"

Not his name, his badge number. A curiously eerie feeling, worse than the pain now coursing through his back, began to creep over Ichigo. How many women were so well versed in self-defense, handled a sidearm like a pro and instinctively asked questions like that? Now that he was regaining his equilibrium, he realized what all the signs were pointing to. She was a cop. She was also a rare beauty; she bore no resemblance to the woman who had gotten his former partner killed.

This lady was a tiny thing, her raven locks blowing in the wind. She looked about five foot one or two (if she lost the heels), petite and slim, with high, sculptured cheekbones and infuriatingly well-curved lips. Even in his current situation, Ichigo found it hard to ignore her femininity. He didn't want to think about the effect she could have on him if she ever traded in that scowl for a dazzling smile. Ichigo told her his number, then added darkly, "Lieutenant Ichigo Kurosaki, Karakura Police Department. Go ask my Chief. He's inside."

"Lieutenant Kurosaki," the husky voice countered, "Chief Jushiro Ukitake is now retired and the Karakura Police Department he ran for seventeen years no longer exists. You now represent the Seiretei County establishment. Kenpachi Zaraki is your regional Commander and Captain Rukia Kuchiki will be taking over the Karakura substation." She sheathed the gun in a shoulder holster he hadn't noticed underneath the coat. "I would advise you to commit that to memory, Lieutenant." Ichigo felt the anger boil up inside of him and reach the exploding point. Who the hell did this midget of a woman think he was? "I know who Kenpachi Zaraki is, damn it!" he spat. She looked him over cooly. "Is that so?" "Yes, that's so."

The two glared at each other for awhile until the brunette had the gall to offer a hand to help him up. Ichigo ignored it. Still steaming, he struggled to get up on his own, but when his wobbly knees gave out he plopped back onto the ground. "I'm Captain Kuchiki, Lieutenant," the beauty informed him, her tone dripping with superiority. Ichigo looked away, his face growing hot. He was not a man to be embarrassed easily, but he knew that only a miracle would save him from the whole damn town's discovery of his humiliation. It was bad enough that the brunette was a strikingly beautiful woman who had gotten the better of him.

Under any circumstances, Ichigo would've hated laying here on the ground, dizzy and wounded with a looker like that standing over him. Knowing that she was the one who'd hurt him, knowing that she was his new boss, knowing that she had stolen the job that was rightfully his and would lord it over him- lady it over him-for as long as she lasted in Karakura, it was just too damn much! Before anything else could be said, the door to the house burst open and none other than Jushiro Ukitake stepped out. "We thought we heard somebody out here. Glad you found the place alright, Captain." Then, after a sharp breath, "What the devil-" "Lieutenant Kurosaki had a little accident," his new captain said bluntly, her husky voice devoid of humor or concern. "He's bleeding."

The next few minutes were a nightmare for Ichigo. Jushiro called out, "Somebody get Doctor Retsu Unohana out here!" and rushed over to his side. "Ichigo, are you okay?" "I'm fine," he answered flatly, wishing Jushiro would stop fussing before he made things worse. But his thoughts were in vain. Koyuki came bounding down the porch after her father and stopped short once she caught sight of Ichigo. And then she started in on him in that loud, dramatic and whiny voice like she used to back when he injured himself playing sports. "Ichigo! Oh, Ichigo, your bleeding! Let Doctor Retsu take a look at you and-" "Oh for Pete's sake," Ichigo exploded, finally managing to struggle to his feet.

His spine ached and the gash on his face was bleeding, but he was pissed. Waving his arms at the crowd that had gathered (no thanks to Koyuki) he shouted, "I, am, fine. Now will everyone just go back to what they were doing and leave me alone, please!" "But Ichigo-" "Listen, I'm going to go," Ichigo announced, ignoring Koyuki. "Aunt Yoruichi wants me to meet some damn boarder at home by nine. I just stopped by to say hello to Koyuki, goodbye to the Chief and to meet Captain Kuchiki. I guess I've done all three so if you don't mind-"

"It won't seem right without you here, Ichigo," protested Shunsui Kyoraku, a former chief of police, a fellow Uraharas' boarder and a member of the town's council. The tone of his voice said more than his words- Shunsui still felt guilty for voting in favor of merging the Karakura and Seireitei Police Departments, even though he'd explained to Ichigo in detail why Karakura's financial situation demanded it. Ichigo was certain that neither Shunsui nor anybody else on the council would've ever guessed that the regional commander would bring in outside talent to run Karakura's police force in the wake of Jushiro's retirement. As Shunsui studied Rukia Kuchiki in the dim porch light, Ichigo read the same look of dismay on the old man's face that he was sure was planted firmly on his own countenance.

"Ichigo, I thought we'd have a chance to talk," Koyuki said quietly, so quietly in fact that he was sure no one else could hear her except for the nearby Captain. "I haven't seen you in years." Ichigo spared his old flame a glance, trying to remember why he had thought there was still some lingering seed of love for her within him. Oh, she was still very pretty in an obvious way; she had gained weight in all the right places and her flowing, long black hair cascaded down past her waist. But she was still a stranger who had chosen another man over him not so long ago, and he knew that his earlier momentary fantasy had nothing to do with her. Trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice he said, "Sorry Koyuki, but I'm busy. Why don't you go talk to Ginnosuke." She flinched away from him as if he had slapped her, and in a tiny voice said, "Sorry for bothering you," before walking away.

Ichigo felt a momentary pang of guilt, but it quickly vanished when he caught the curious eye of his new "captain". He glared at her and she raised her eyebrows haughtily in response. "Are you feeling up to driving, Lieutenant? I can ask one of the other officers to take you home," she said in a buisnesslike tone. "I can take care of myself, Captain," he snapped. If she had been a man, he would have been hard-pressed to keep from decking her. But he had been raised to be gentle with women and to respect his boss. Still, he wasn't used to the raging fury that was strangling him at this moment. It was something new and terrible, a beast he knew he must learn to subdue.

Captain Kuchiki, rebuttoning her coat, had the nerve to look downright pretty as she brushed past Ichigo without another word and followed everyone else inside. While the sounds of laughter from inside the house drifted out to his still-red ears, Ichigo limped towards his truck. On the street he ran into two more late arrivals-Sergeant Renji Abarai and tubby Marechiyo Omaeda from the station-but he quickly ducked inside his car before they could see that he had been roughed up. Tomorrow would be soon enough for them to start their ribbing. By the time he turned on the ignition, the scrapes on Ichigo's jaw had clotted, but his back hurt worse than ever. He'd broken up barroom brawls with less pain and certainly much less humiliation! By morning, every damn soul in Karakura would know how Ichigo Kurosaki had been bested by the new female Captain who had been hired instead of him. The gouges on his face would heal a lot sooner than the scars on his pride.

Rukia stayed at the party longer than she had intended, not because she was having fun-she wasn't-and not because she thought courtesy demanded it. It was Jushiro Ukitake's moment of honor, and in a town this size she was sure that everyone would be here. Rukia wanted to study those people with great care, just in case the need ever arose to identify a future suspect, as well as to familiarize herself with the faces. Like the other cops for instance. Lieutenant Kurosaki had only lived here since High School according to her sources, but his family had lived here for generations. That piece of information might be significant.

So might the fact that Kurosaki had been involved with Ukitake's daughter, and not just because it had provided the catalyst for his unfortunate first meeting with Rukia. If only that handsome man had been able to read her mind! If only he had guessed how terrible she felt about embarrassing him, how frightened she'd been by the way he had lunged at her, how his virility had unnerved her even after he'd quelled her fears by revealing that he was a cop! She'd done everything in her power to fool him with her tough-as-leather facade, and she hoped that she had succeeded. She would need a full set of armor to run the Karakura substation and get all those rowdy men in line.

Everything Rukia had heard about Ichigo Kurosaki- and everything she had read in his file-caused her to believe that he was a man of powerful convictions, keen loyalties and devoted to his fellow police officers. Under normal circumstances, Rukia would have looked forward to working with him. But she sensed a hostility in him that warned her he was going to be hard to control. Commander Zaraki had even confessed that he still had high hopes for the Lieutenant's career. Kenpachi Zaraki was a bit of a chauvinist, and so Rukia had glowed when he told her that she had earned his respect since she had moved from Rukongai to Seireitei.

Living under the same roof with Kurosaki would certainly make it easier to ascertain where his loyalties lie, but after that chaotic first meeting, their living situation would soon prove to be a strain for the both of them. Rukia was not disheartened. She'd devoted her life to the badge and she had police work in her blood. From birth, her father had urged her (well, almost commanded her), "You will uphold the Kuchiki name; Do nothing to sully it and stay on the path of honor and duty", so she had devoted her life to doing just that. His death in the line of duty had only strengthened her determination. Rukia's courage, however, did little to squelch the butterflies in her stomach as she rang the doorbell of the Urahara Boardinghouse.

The door was opened on the first ring, which surprised Rukia. The sight of the man on the other side of the door surprised her even more. He was wearing low-slung jeans, thick socks without shoes and a sweatshirt. Droplets of water clung to his freshly washed and wild orange hair; droplets of blooded oozed from three deep gouges on his face. He was about 6 feet; long and lean. His deep brown eyes sparkled with fun and his square jaw was softened by deep dimples when he smiled. It was the kind of smile that could make a woman forget everything else in the world. Rukia found herself wrestling with her memory.

"Hi, there! I'm Ichigo Kurosaki, Yoruichi Urahara's nephew," he greeted her cheerfully, reaching out for the suitcase in her hand. "She asked me to roll out the red carpet and give you the grand tour. Did you have any trouble finding the place?" Rukia stared at him, wondering if Kurosaki had dual personalities. What a joy to find him so forgiving, so friendly, so... So damn male! With a jolt she realized that the man's dimpled smile was triggering an unexpected female response within her, one that she always tried hard to surpress especially around other policemen. Rukia had an uneasy hunch that she was safer with this man when he was angry, but it would be cowardly to provoke him for no apparent reason.

It turned out that any subterfuge was totally unnecessary. The instant she stepped into the lighted hallway, the smile on Ichigo Kurosaki's face froze, before being replaced in earnest with a scowl. "Your Aunt's directions were quite clear, Lieutenant," Rukia said neutrally, keeping a firm hold on the suitcase. "I can carry my own things, thank you." Rukia didn't know why it hurt so much to see Kurosaki change so drastically right before her eyes. She didn't know this man and couldn't afford to like him. But she'd been spellbound by his cheerful greeting when he had assumed she was an utter stranger; and now he was smoldering because he realized they'd met before.

"Captain Kuchiki?" His tightly controled tone could not conceal the fury that was now raging in his eyes. "My aunt didn't mention her new lodger's name. I didn't realize that the new police Captain would be-" "Invading your home?" His lips tightened at her bluntness and Rukia regretted the hard words almost instantly. But at least this would help clear the air about their respective positions. Sooner or later, they would have it out over the way she'd been brought in to take over the job he had expected. Better to do it in private than in front of the men. They would all take his side. One to one, she had a better chance of victory.

"Captain Kuchiki, you are free to live wherever you like. I was just... surprised to find out that you were the new boarder. My information was incomplete." He spoke the words with calculated indiference. "I don't like to advertise my private life, Lieutenant," Rukia told him. She didn't need to add the obvious- that she'd deliberately avoided revealing the nature of her job to chatty Yoruichi Urahara when they had made arrangements over the phone. "I don't have much off-duty time, but when I do, I like it to be all mine." "I feel the same way." "Good," she said stoutly. "Then we have something in common."

Kurosaki glanced away. He was fuming, she was sure of that, but trying to show respect. Rukia had to admire that-even more than she had to admire those massive shoulders. Still, she couldn't afford to let his hidden anger smolder. "We have something else in common, Lieutenant. We both want the job that I came here to do." His harsh gaze swung back on her. "Captain, I am doing my damnedest to be courteous to you. Why the hell are you baiting me?" "I don't want you sandbagging me when we're on the job, Lieutenant Kurosaki," she told him truthfully. "I came here to run the Karakura substation to the best of my ability, and I will-with or without you. But as long as you remain here, we will have to work closely together. Whatever you have against me, I'd rather you get it out now." When he stared at her for a long, bitter moment, Rukia had a sense of what it would feel like to be a criminal collared by this man.

His body was a solid wall of muscle that looked as if he maintained it at a gym. Rukia was rarely ever intimidated by a man's physical strength, but this big guy had her struggling to keep her breathing even. And that was unusual considering the fact that not even Commander Zaraki on a bad day intimidated her like this. Suddenly, Rukia had a feeling that it would not be easy to control him, physically or mentally. She'd flipped him over that fence only because he'd been oblivious to danger. She would never catch him off guard again. With slow, measured anger, he closed the door behind her.

"On behalf of my Aunt and Uncle, welcome to Urahara Boardinghouse, Captain Kuchiki," he said as tonelessly as a robot repeating a coded message. Coldly he turned from the door and began to walk towards the back of the house, continuing to talk as she followed him. "Breakfast is served at seven and dinner is served at six. There's a refrigerator and a microwave that you are free to use as long as you clean up after yourself. The living room is for everyone. So is the phone. The den is off limits unless you are invited in." He started climbing the back stairs, two at a time, and Rukia found it hard to keep up with his long, angry strides while dragging the heavy suitcase she had refused to let him take from her.

He took half a dozen steps down the hallway, then dug in his pocket. "This is the key to the front door. This is the key to your room." He dropped them both in to her hand, being careful not to make contact with her skin. Then he opened the door to her room and gestured for her to go inside. With relief, Rukia saw that the room was well-kept and charming. On the old four-poster lay a quilt, although it was a bit old and worn. That was okay. Witha small smile, Rukia thought of the only girly thing she allowed herself, her bunny-printed comforter that she had brought along.

There was also a braided rug on the ground. Before Rukia could comment on the vase of flowers and note she spotted on the nightstand, Ichigo marched over to the door on the opposite side of the room and pulled it open, revealing an equally quaint bathroom. "This is the bath. You share it with the lodger on the other side." He pulled open the door on the far side as if to prove his point, but Rukia could see little of the other room. When Ichigo took a stiff step and grimaced, Rukia felt a sharp need to offer an apology for the way she had treated him earlier. As a woman who prided herself on her quiet compassion and tact, Rukia found it hard to keep from showing concern. "Any questions?" he asked brusquely, interrupting her thoughts. Will you always hate me? Will all the other Karakura cops hate me, too? Will I ever get to see those incredible dimples again?

Aloud she said, "No, Lieutenant. Thank you. Good night." "Good night," he said, moving cautiously as he went through the far door. It took Rukia a moment to realize the significance of that simple act. He's the boarder living next to me! she realized in dismay. We'll be sharing the same bathroom! She had already known that it would be hard to live with him, but this was ridiculous. Resolutely, she closed and locked the door separating them before going over to read the note. It started personally-

Dear Rukia,

I'm sorry we couldn't be there to greet you personally, but we'll be there in the morning to help you with whatever you need. In the meantime, you can count on my nephew to make you snug as a bug in a rug. Isn't he adorable? He's Karakura's finest police officer, and single too! I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get acquainted. We're so glad to have you with us. Just make yourself at home.

Yoruichi Urahara

Rukia fought back a lump in her throat. Mrs. Urahara would never know just how much it meant to her to know that at least one person did sincerely welcome her here. The officers she'd met at the Ukitakes' had made it abundantly clear that they had been hoping for Ichigo Kurosaki as their Captain. And Kurosaki himself (why the hell did he have to be so handsome, and why the hell did he have to greet her with that damn smile) was probably already making devious tactical plans to oust her. Wearily, she began to unpack the things she would need for the first few days- her uniforms, a warm robe, jeans, sweatshirts and sturdy ties she would use to keep her shoulder-length hair pinned up in a neat bun when she was on duty.

Near the bottom of the suitcase, she found her beloved comforter, and folded securely within it, a glossy framed eight-by ten photo of her father in uniform, taken shortly before his death. He looked serene as ever, almost as expressionless as he had been in life, but nonetheless, Rukia felt his confidence in his only child buoy her. "I'll do it, father," she said softly. "I'm going to make you proud." She touched his face through the cold glass, then placed the frame on top of the desk, removed her gun from its holster and laid it next to the flowers. Quickly, she took down her hair, shed her heels and peeled off her stockings.

She was standing in her bare feet, still wearing the black slinky dress and shoulder holster when she heard a knock on the adjoining bathroom door. "Yes?" she asked as she opened it uneasily. Rukia was not used to being in such close proximity with a hostile stranger. Maybe he had come to clear the air, she told herself hopefully. Belatedly, Rukia realized that she truly did not want to go to bed in a strange place with her housemate and second in command furious with her. Maybe she could make amends. But the minute she caught sight of him; his square jaw still a bit bloody; his brown eyes dark with rage, Rukia knew it was way too late for reconciliation. As she gazed up, up, up to meet his hard glare, she suddenly wished she still had on her 3 inch heels. Then, maybe her modest height of five foot two wouldn't feel so dwarfed compared to him. Back in High School, she had only been about 4 foot eight, and to her great annoyance, no one had taken her seriously. So she had been ecstactic a few years later when she had finally grown enough not to be mistaken for a child. However, looking up at Kurosaki now, Rukia wished she was a lot taller so that he wouldn't be able to intimidate her with his size. "Captain Kuchiki, I've changed my mind. There is something I'd like to say to you," Kurosaki said flatly, his size seeming to fill the room. "I'm damn proud to be a Karakura cop, and that's not going to change. Reguardless of what Zaraki says, if you can't stand to work with me-" his tone grew feral, "-then your the one who will have to move on." Rukia fought back a shiver and stared at him disdainfully. "How nice of you to finally reveal your true feelings. But don't you forget, Lieutenant, that I'm the one who's in charge here. Now get out of my room!" He did as she asked without another word, slamming the door behind him. Sudden weariness overcame Rukia and she collapsed tiredly onto her comfortable bunny cover. Closing her eyes, she felt a headache coming on. It looked as if the war between her and Ichigo Kurosaki had just begun.

AN

Yay, it's done. That was long wasn't it. Let me tell you, it took forever to write. But it was fun and I hoped you guys enjoyed it. So don't forget to tell me what you think on your way out, and sorry for any mistakes.


	2. Chapter 2

AN

Wow, what can I say. Your responses were overwhelming so thank you all for your support! Just a few things. First, sorry about Kenpachi being a little OOC, but he was merely a stepping-stone, and won't have that big of a role in this story. Another thing, sorry about the formatting but my computer isn't the best. Also, just want to say thanks to that guest reviewer who told me that I don't need variety and should write what I want. I really do appreciate that. Anyway, all of you guys have inspired me to write as fast as I can. I should be doing other things, but I'm not, so here it is.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Two

Ichigo reached the station house early the next morning eager to arrive before Captain Curvaceous started turning his life upside down. Actually, she had already done that, he mused darkly as he recalled the painful dawn battle between his razor and his half scabbed face. Fortunately, he hadn't seen hide nor hair of Rukia Kuchiki while he'd limped down to the basement and done a cautious workout in a futile efert to limber up his battered back. Ichigo would have preferred to present himself to his new boss feeling at his best, but the Kuchiki woman's acrobatic moves had already nixed that.

He didn't think she would last too long, but he knew she'd keep him on his toes until she threw in the towel. Last night's sparring had told him that his nemesis was tougher than he'd expected the new female Captain to be. But a woman cop was still a woman cop, which meant she was weak, unpredictable and not to be trusted.

Ichigo did not consider himself a raging chauvinist. In fact, he generally liked matching wits with women and found them to be as bright and capable as men in most professions. Like Doctor Unohana for instance. He had lots of respect for her. He didn't even mind female dispatchers and file clerks in prisons and police stations. His objection was to women serving on patrol with male partners whose lives depended on them. Partners whose lives were lost because of them.

In Ichigo's view, putting a female in charge of a group of fighting men-and what was a police squad but a military unit"-bordered on ludicrous. And hiring one from another substation to replace the man who had been groomed for the position for years was just plain insane.

It was also troubling, because Ichigo knew that Commander Zaraki felt much the same way he did about women in uniform. Or at least, he used to feel that way. Just what in the hell was so special about this one? Just a year ago, Jushiro Ukitake had confided that whether Karakura became a county substation or not, Ichigo was a shoo-in for the Captain's job. Last week Ichigo had asked Jushiro straight out what had happened, and Jushiro had looked him in the eye and said he didn't know.

Ichigo didn't know, either, but now that he'd taken stock of Rukia Kuchiki's physical attributes, he didn't think it was going to take too long to find out. The only question was what bigwig she was cozy with... and whether he'd used blackmail or favors owed to put pressure on the Commander or somebody else up the line.

When Ichigo arrived at the station at 7-23, a full half-hour before his shift began, he was surprised to find one of Karakura's dispatchers, Orihime Inoue, cowering by the police radio. The young light orange haired woman looked a bit bedraggled this morning. She could have been sick-this time of year there were a fair number of colds and sore throats going around-but illness wouldn't account for her hangdog expression.

"What's wrong, Hime?" he asked, taken aback by her uncharacteristic sobriety.

"I was over getting a cup of coffee when Omaeda and Hisagi called in," she told him miserably, not even meeting his eyes. "It was a doughnut stop, so I went ahead and put a spoonful of creamer in my cup before I came back over here and called back. By that time she had grabbed the mike and barked out a bunch of numbers I didn't understand. She told me never to leave my post unless there was some one else covering me. Then she marched in there and slammed the door."

Orihime pointed to Jushiro's office, a place that Ichigo had once considered a source of warmth and strength. Now it was inhabited by a virago.

"I'll talk to her, Orihime," he volunteered. Serving as a liaison between the boss and the underlings had always been part of his job, but it hadn't been all that taxing when Jushiro was in charge. "She's new here and a bit high-strung. After a while, she'll figure out how we do things in Karakura."

Orihime, who'd once set her sights on Ichigo but had recently resigned herself to only being a good friend, smiled her grattitude. "Thanks, Ichigo. I don't know what we'd do without you here. It's so unfair that you-"

"I know. Let's not talk about it, okay?" Before she could answer, he asked, "When did she get here?"

"About five. I was so shocked! Jushiro never came in until after daylight, and even you don't show up that early!"

"Don't ask me to understand the workings of that woman's mind," Ichigo replied darkly. "I think Captain Curvaceous attended police academy on some other planet."

When Orihime glanced up at Ichigo, giggling at the nickname he had coined, her glance fell on his jaw for the first time. "Oh no, Ichigo! What happened to you? I thought you were off duty last night."

He was trying to think of a way to avoid confessing the humiliating truth when he heard the Captain's office door swing open.

To Ichigo's dismay, that damned Kuchiki woman looked every bit as striking in a black uniform as she did dressed for a party. Her hair up in a tight bun looked more prosaic than it did in curls, but somehow the stern image flattered her striking features.

"Kurosaki, glad your here," the new boss briskly called out to him from across the room. "We've got a lot to cover this morning before roll call."

"Roll call?" he echoed. With all of six men on each shift, it seemed like a ridiculous formality. "We, uh, don't do roll call here."

Rukia Kuchiki straightened then, looking ominous in her uniform as she took a step toward him.

"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant. I believe I heard you say something like "we don't do roll call here."

Reluctantly Ichigo nodded, trying to stifle a new wave of resentment. He was uncomfortably aware that the door behind him had just opened and several dayshift guys had just wisecracked their way into the room. "That's what I said, Captain Kuchiki. Jushiro always-"

"Lieutenant, I am not interested in the sections of the county code violated by my predecessor unless they are serious enough for prosecution," she cut in, her violet eyes showing all the warmth of a glacier. "I am interested in instituting proper police procedures in accordance with the newly revised manual. I did not devote most of a year of my off-duty time to updating this edition in order to have it ignored by the men under my command. Is that clear?"

During this unexpected speech, Omaeda and Hisagi had joined the day-shift fellows, gaping wordlessly as the new boss tongue-lashed the man they all considered their true leader. Ichigo couldn't say that Jushiro had never chewed out a man in public, but he'd only done it when the man had failed to respond to more subtle direction.

Not once, not ever, had he done it to Ichigo.

With all the strength he could muster, he refrained from cutting Rukia Kuchiki down to her tiny size. "I'm sure that Karakura's officers will follow whatever regulations are important to you, Captain," he reported stiffly. I merely meant to explain that they had not be willfully violating any county requirements. Jushiro simply had a different way-"

"I am not interested in former Chief Ukitake's ways, nor in his shockingly unprofessional habits," the Captain interrupted, ignoring the communal gasp of dismay from the men behind Ichigo. "From now on you will refer to him by his proper name, and you will address me by my proper rank." Her tone was so sharp it almost left nicks on Ichigo's still-bloodied face. "Do we understand each other, Lieutenant?"

Ichigo had not expected to like Rukia Kuchiki. He had not expected to enjoy serving under her command. Last night he'd realized that he would have to swallow a great deal of pride to tolerate being her subordinate, but it was not until this very moment that he realized how seriously this woman was going to color his world. She'd stolen his promotion; she'd invaded his home. Ichigo was sworn by duty to uphold her orders and demand loyalty to her from his men.

But no duty could keep him from wanting to throttle her at this moment. And no badge would keep him from calling a bitch a bitch if she ever dressed him down in public again.

"So how did your first day of work go?" Yoruichi Urahara cheerfully asked Rukia as her new boarder sat down to dinner. She was such a pretty girl, even if she was a bit sparing with her sweet smile. "You should have told me you were going to be the new police Captain. I heard you took my favorite nephew by surprise." Actually, she'd heard the story of Ichigo's real surprise-being flipped on his backside by his new boss-from no fewer than six different people today. Dr. Unohana, Yoruichi's boss, had told her the tale firsthand.

Rukia took her napkin off the table and laid it carefully in her lap. "Well, it's a small town, Mrs. Urahara-"

"Yoruichi, hon. Only strangers call me Mrs. Urahara."

Rukia's smile was genuine but strained. "Until I have time to buy my own place, Yoruichi, I'm bound to brush elbows with some of my men."

Yoruichi tried to swallow a chuckle as she pondered other posible interpretations of that phrase, but strawberry blonde-haired Rangiku Matsumoto, never one to pull her punches, laughed outright.

"It's a worthy goal for most girls your age, honey," the eccentric hairdresser teased with a goodnatured grin. "With all the fine boys on our force, I imagine you'll find yourself a man in no time."

Yoruichi was surprised to see Rukia color; she knew Rangiku had meant no harm. Still, it wouldn't be easy for any woman like Rangiku to understand why the girl wanted to be a police Captain. Yoruichi didn't really understand it, either, but if Rukia wanted to take her job seriously, then so should everybody else at Urahara's. Granted, it was a little hard for Yoruichi to feel happy about anybody taking the job that Ichigo had wanted for himself, but it wasn't Rukia's fault she'd been appointed.

"A pretty girl like Rukia could get married anytime she wanted to," Yoruichi pointed out cheerfully. "She's just got more important things to do right now. Isn't that right, Rukia?"

Rukia flashed Yoruichi a greatful look. "That's about the size of it. My job is my life. I can't imagine that any man would put up with it."

"Ichigo's the same way," Kisuke added laconically. After thirty-five years of marriage, little that her stalwart husband said took Yoruichi by surprise. Despite his apparent indiference to the conversation, she knew he was trying to bolster the new young boarder in his own quiet way. "There's something about being a cop, he always says. It's not a job, it's a way of life. From the time he was a little boy, it's all Ichigo ever wanted to be."

"Wait, I thought he wanted to be a football player," Rangiku countered, reaching for another riceball with her chopsticks. "Isn't that how he got the nickname, stonewall?"

Yoruichi watched Rukia carefully. Yes, her eyebrows did rise a trifle. She was a bit interested in Ichigo's personal life!

"He was a wonderful guard," Yoruichi explained with renewed enthusiasm after she'd recapped the story of his childhood for Rukia. After all, shouldn't the girl know that Ichigo had lived with his aunt and uncle since his father died when he was fifteen? Shouldn't she know that his mother had died when he was nine? "One night he stopped the TOkyo team all by himself. The sports reporter said that they would have had the same luck trying to score through a solid stone wall. After that, the nickname just caught on and that's what all his police buddies call him. We all call him that sometimes too."

"Except for your mother," Kisuke corrected her. "She's the only one we know who refuses to call him that."

"Well, Yomi's a bit long in the tooth to start changing her ways now," Rangiku replied with a chuckle. She served herself some Nikujaga and passed the serving dish to Rukia. "I keep hoping she'll match up with some friendly old codger at the retirement home, but she seems content to just sit and sew."

"She quilts," explained Yoruichi, who didn't like to think of her darling, bright-eyed mother as growing old. As the Urahara's began to chat amongst themselves, Rangiku began to fil lRUkia in on all kinds of town gosip and wild stories. After a while, Rukia began to automatically tune her out. SHe didn't mean to, but she was just suddenly so tired.

Eventually, Rangiku noticed that her listener was not paying rapt attention to her incessant babbling. "You ought to take notes," she advised peevishly. "You might forget some of this, and you cops need to keep track of local gossip, don't you? So if I were you, I'd pay attention."

Rukia smiled warily, so warily that Yoruichi wondered if she'd already figured out that Rangiku deliberately tossed off outrageous comments to help maintain her flamboyant image. Rukia had chosen a tough career, so she must be a pretty tough person. But Yoruichi suspected that she'd had a hard day at work, and tonight she needed warmth and support from her fellow boarders. Rangiku often showed her affection for people by teasing, but Yoruichi didn't think Rukia was in the mood to be teased. "You were about to tell us how things went today," she tried again.

Rukia met her eyes gratefully. "Well, it was... exciting, Mrs. Ura-Yoruichi. Demanding. Different from... just being a reguilar cop."

"Honey, are you telling us it isn't exciting to be a reguilar cop? Why, I can't tell you the number of nights we've sat here and listened to Ichigo tell us how satisfying it is to-" Rangiku broke off and turned to Yoruichi. "Where is Ichigo, anyway? He loves nikujaga! Didn't I hear him ask you to make it tonight?"

Yoruichi flushed. This morning Ichigo had asked her to do just that, but he'd called an hour ago and told her he'd be coming home late because he was going to help his friend Renji fix his motorcycle. But Yoruichi wasn't fooled for an instant. It was far too cold outside to be fussing with a vehicle. It bothered Yoruichi that she'd heard a tension in Ichigo's voice that hadn't been there since Koyuki Ukitake had dumped him.

As she glanced at Rukia, she realized that there was only one recent change in Ichigo's life- Rukia Kuchiki. Despite the incident at Jushiro Ukitake's party, she still had hopes for the two of them. After all, what woman could understand her nephew's commitment to law enforcement better than another cop? Besides, Ichigo was such a sweet boy, so kind and loving, so much fun! He didn't blow up often, and when he did, he was always quick to apologize. He wasn't one to hold a grudge.

Yoruichi wondered if the same was true of Rukia.

"Ichigo's busy tonight," she explained. I'll save him some leftovers. And Shunsui's having dinner with Jushiro."

Yoruichi caught a glimpse of interest in Rukia's eyes as she listed to the news, and she hoped that Ichigo would come back before Rukia finished eating. When she saw the two of them together she'd have a lot better sense of how they were really getting along.

Kisuke asked another polite question about police work, and Rukia was quick to answer it. Overall, she seemed happy enough to talk about her new job-in general, upbeat terms-but there was a tension in her that revealed to Yoruichi that things were not going as well as she'd hoped. Rukia praised Yoruichi's cooking and did her best to listen courteously to Rangiku's exuberant suggestions for how to style her midlength black hair, but Yoruichi had the feeling that this bright and cheery dinner was the highlight of Rukia's first day on the job. Loneliness would be her only ally once she retreated to her room.

Yoruichi dragged out the dinner conversation as long as she could, urging Rukia to have seconds of the chocolate cheesecake she'd made that afternoon. The girl had just finished the last crumb, insisting that she'd had enough, when the door to the kitchen swung open and Ichigo burst into the house.

"Where's that nikujaga, Aunt Yoruichi?" he called out cheerfully as he pulled off his jacket. "I've had one hell of a rotten day and I'm starving!"

Ichigo strode into the dining room, then spotted Rukia. Once again, his smile instantly vanished and was replaced by a scowl. As Rukia rose to her feet with dignity, nobody in the room could fail to feel the electric charge that zapped between them. But to Yoruichi's dismay, it wasn't a charge of passsion, hope or pleasure. Rukia's face radiated uncertainty and distrust. Ichigo's eyes darkened with rage.

For a long, tense moment they stared each other down. Nobody spoke. Not even Rangiku could come up with a joke to break the tension.

Then, Rukia said stiffly, "You missed a fine dinner, Lieutenant, but I believe your aunt has saved some for you."

Bitterly he answered, "Did you instruct her on the proper procedure for labeling and marking the provisions, Captain Kuchiki? Did you provide her with the proper forms to account for culinary consumption by late-night nibblers? Did you dictate a memo reguarding how many ounces each boarder should be served?"

That was when Yoruichi knew that her dear nephew was in terrible trouble. In all the years Ichigo had lived with her, she had never heard him be rude to a guest.

And this one was his boss!

Rukia ignored his needling tone-ignored him, in fact, altogether-and said to Yoruichi, "Thank you so much for the wonderful dinner. If you'll excuse me now, I have some work to do in my room."

She gave the rest of them a quick good-night, then turned and marched up the stairs. Her steps were firm and she held her head high, but Yoruichi wasn't fooled.

She was a woman, and she knew a woman's heart. And she knew that her young boarder would shed some private tears tonight.

Despite her exhausting first day at work, Rukia had a hard time going to sleep. It hadn't been easy holding her own with Ichigo Kurosaki, let alone weeping silently into her pillow so that he couldn't hear her as he settled into bed next door. It was after two when she finally dozed off, and long after six when she woke from a frightening dream in which Kurosaki was towering over her with a steak knife, threatening to kill her if she did not surrender her job.

Trying to ignore the nightmare, Rukia quickly tugged off her nightgown, slipped into a robe and header for the shower. To her dismay, the door to the bathroom was locked. She could hear Kurosaki singing (off-key to her pleasure) in the shower.

Apparently he felt better this morning if he had the heart to sing. After all, last night he'd let off a little steam. So far he'd addressed her with stiff courtesy at the station house, reguardless of his poorly concealed irritation, but apparently it was too much to ask him to keep his gloves off in his own home.

Rukia couldn't really blame him. She'd been tough yesterday, tougher than she would have been if she'd taken over a job supervising women. But women would have accepted her authority once she proved she knew what she was doing. That wouldn't be enough for the men.

Worse yet, Jushiro Ukitake had left the place in a bureaucratic shambles. Oh, Rukia imagined things had lumped along all right.

But it wasn't good enough for a complex county system, and it wasn't good enough for Rukia. She'd spent most of the first day trying to figure out what had passed for record keeping and dictating memos to reestablish a professional code of conduct and an efficient game plan for day-to-day organization. Today she was going to do what she would have done the first day if things hadn't been in such a mess. She was going to get acquainted with Karakura from a cop's-eye view. And that meant she had to go cruise the town with the help of her right-hand man.

Assuming he ever got out of the shower!

After ten minutes, she banged on the door. "Lieutenant! Would you hurry up in there?"

There was no reply. She banged again, several times, but nothing happened. Finally she gave up, until she heard the buzz of an electric razor.

When Kurosaki opened the door at last and glared at her, Rukia was struck at once by the realization that he was wearing nothing but a towel, casually knotted around his waist. His massive chest and biceps looked even more daunting naked than they did clothed. His legs were well muscled and hairy and compellingly male.

"Is there some emergency that won't wait?" he grumped, not bothering to say good-morning. One of the gouges on his face had started bleeding again, but he'd done nothing to stanch the flow. "Is there some reason I can't get dressed in peace?"

Rukia felt a bit guilty for disturbing him, but she had her own agenda for the day. Besides, it was obvious that Ichigo was going to hate her no matter what she did. Why bend over backward to make him happy?

"I have to get ready for work, Lieutenant," she explained briskly. I can't twiddle my thumbs while you sing in the shower for fifteen minutes. Didn't you hear me knocking?"

"As a matter of fact, Captain, I did." His brown eyes glittered with rage. "But since the house didn't seem to be burning down, I couldn't think of a good reason why I should cut short my shower just so you could assert your feminist authority in my bathroom."

"It's our bathroom, Lieutenant, and I assure you, my motives were quite mundane. I can't even put up my hair until I wash it this morning, let alone get dressed before I shower. I have to be at work before the day shift arrives and-"

"And I don't?"

"Well, of course you do. I made it clear yesterday that punctuali-"

"But your the Captain. That makes your shower more important than mine?"

"I didn't say that, Kurosaki!"

"I don't recall what you had to say on the subject of showers, Captain. Aren't they listed in Kuchiki's revised police manual? I don't recall receiving a memo instructing me on how many gallons of water I might use at exactly what temperature for precisely how many minutes? Silly me, I thought I'd just keep showering my old-fashioned way. But that wouldn't work, would it? That would be one small portion of my life that you couldn't regulate!"

Rukia was so stung by the depth of his anger that she didn't know what to say. Maybe she had come on a little strong at the station house, but... it had been necessary. Hadn't it?

Unable to meet her furious glare, her gaze dropped, inadvertently focusing once more on the towel wrapped around his waist. Determined not to think about what lay beneath it, she concentrated on what she saw-that broad, virile chest still sprinkled with drops of water from the shower. She was at war with this man. Why the hell did he have to have a physique that was so damned impressive? Thank God he was too angry to smile at her! She still remembered that radiant smile she'd only seen once-tempting, playful, unbearably appealing.

For a moment Rukia was so engrossed with the sight of Ichigo's magnificent body that she almost forgot they were having a fight. But she remembered as soon as she met his glowering eyes again.

Uncomfortably she told him, "Just let me know when your through, Lieutenant. Maybe tomorrow we can divvy up the time. I can get ready, say, from six to six-thirty, and then it'll be all yours."

"You work up a plan and send me a memo," he said sarcastically. "And be sure to specify how many minutes I should spend shaving as opposed to brushing my teeth." This time his razor sharp tone really did hurt, but Rukia wasn't about to let him know it.

"You decide what's best for you and let me know," she acquiesced, surprised when her voice came out pinched and low. She hadn't yet put her armor on for the day, and it was hard to sound tough and haughty when she felt so alone.

"Ah, a compromise." His eyes narrowed; suspicion laced his deep tone. "Coming from you, more likely a trap."

"It's a straightforward offer!" Rukia burst out. "Damn you, Kurosaki, are you paranoid? Or just searching for more reasons to hate me? Don't you have enough of them already?"

"I'm not the one who rode into town with my pistols cocked, Captain! I'm not the one determined to gun everybody down!"

"Lieutenant, I'm just doing my job," she insisted, torn between sounding tough as iron and begging for him to give her a fair trial. "I'm trying to clean up an administrative mess. If there are a few emotional casualties-"

"A few? Open your eyes, Captain! There's not one person at our substation whom you failed to offend yesterday! How can you believe that's a requirement of your position? How can you be proud of that?"

Rukia wasn't proud of it; she wished she could have handled things more diplomatically. She especially regretted the way she'd shredded chubby Marechiyo Omaeda and tongue-lashed Orihime Inoue. But she didn't dare admit that to the already arrogant Kurosaki.

"Lieutenant, it is not easy for a woman in my position to earn the personal reguard or loyalty of her men," she confessed reluctantly, forcing herself to meet his steely gaze. "It may never happen here. But I can and will demand a display of respect for my position. You know perfectly well that if I don't crush any hint of rebellion in these first crucial days, I'll never be able to do this job."

Ichigo looked puzzled by something she'd said... or maybe by the fact that she was still talking to him at all. He reached down to tighten his blue-and-gold towel-it was starting to slip-as he said slowly, "Captain, I think you can consider the staff sufficiently crushed. One or two of them may be pulverized."

Rukia wanted to ask, How about you?, but before she could speak, he turned away. She drew in a sharp breath as she gazed at his broad, bare back, purpled with bruises from his encounter with the gate. God, that must hurt! she realized painfully. And I barely even apologized.

Suddenly Rukia knew she couldn't let their discussion end like this. They had to smoke a peace pipe, or neither one of them would last another day.

"Lieutenant?"

He stopped, but he did not turn around. His towel was hanging dangerously low again.

"I'm sorry things have started out so badly between us," Rukia said sincerely. "I really wish it didn't have to be this way."

Now he did turn to face her, one hand lazily gripping the intersection of the terry-cloth tails. "What would you do over, Captain? Our spectacular greeting, when you embarrassed me in front of the whole damn town? Or yesterday morning, when you could hardly wait for me to step foot in the station house before you dressed me down in front of the men?" When he took a rough step toward here, Rukia had to steel herself to keep from retreating. "Or would you like to replay this charming scene, when you barged into my shower and started giving me orders about my personal grooming?"

Rukia swallowed hard, but she stood her ground. "I won't deny that I've been rough on you, Lieutenant, but let's be fair. We share the responsibility for this impasse. You know damn well that if I'd ridden into town as sweet as sunshine, you'd still be gunning for me!"

His square jaw jutted out. "You stole my job, damn you!" His voice was hard and low.

Rukia straightened. This was the heart of the problem. She knew she had to meet his accusation head-on. The best defence was the truth-at least as much of it as she was willing to tell. "I got this job fair and square, Lieutenant. I didn't even know there was a Karakura man who expected to get this position until after I'd accepted it. I felt a twinge of regret for your misfortune, but not enough to toss away my own career." She met his eyes boldly. "In my position, what would you have done?"

Ichigo did not look away, but his voice was stripped of most of his earlier anger when he answered, "I would have come to Karakura."

Rukia nodded, then pressed on to her next point. "When I'd tossed you over that fence, Lieutenant, I was acting on pure instinct. It was dark, I was alone, and I'd been listening to a large man's footsteps moving faster and faster. He seemed to be chasing me. I didn't know a soul in town, so I knew he couldn't be a friend. When he grabbed me before I could reach the house, I defended myself the way I've been trained." Rukia shivered as an old memory assaulted her. "That maneuver once saved my life, Kurosaki. I wouldn't be surprised if someday it saves my life again."

He grabbed a tissue from the sink and patted the blood from his chin, but his eyes did not leave Rukia.

"I'm sorry it had to be you. I'm sorry everyone had to see it. But I couldn't undo it, and I couldn't risk looking weak by fussing over you. Even a simple apology was risky. Considering your response to the situation, you wouldn't have listened if I'd gotten down on my knees. You were far too concerned with your own reputation to give a shit about mine."

Ichigo tossed the bloody tissue into the wastebasket and readjusted his towel one more time. It was a big towel, but it seemed to be cuasing him a great deal of trouble. It didn't seem to cover quite as much of him as it had before.

"As to our first encounter in the squad room, you openlly defied me within my first hour on the job. If you'd expressed your opinions privately, I could have heard you out, even if I'd disagreed. I might even have been able to compromise. But under the circumstances, the need to establish my authority outweighed my concern for your personal feelings." This issue went beyond her pride and position. The safety of her men was on the line. "Someday, we're going to have a police crisis on our hands, Kurosaki. I'll have to bark out orders. If the men hesitate-if they ignore me and look to you-it could be a disaster. It could cost lives."

She took a step forward then, so close that she could almost touch his powerful chest. Suddenly Rukia realized that she wasn't wearing a thing beneath her bright pink bunny-printed bathrobe, and every female inch of her was aware of it. "Lieutenant, I don't doubt that you could do my job admirably. Nobody in Karakura doubts it, either. But at this moment in space and time, I have authority over you. That's not good or bad, fair or rotten. It's just the way it is. Cops have to accept bad luck all the time."

"Cops don't usually have to accept orders from women," he grumbled.

She stared at him for a full minute, then said coldly, "The cops in Karakura do."

Ichigo swore under his breath. His gaze swiveled to the wall.

"It would help us all if you could just think of me as a fellow officer instead of a woman. On the job, we all have to be sexless."

His head jerked up. "Do we have to be sexless in our private bathroom, too?"

To Rukia's surprise, a slow blush flamed along her neck. She felt her cheeks go hot.

She could have admitted that she was acutely aware of the fact that he was a man-a naked man-and she was an almost naked woman except for her bathrobe. But somehow it didn't fit into their conversation. Her purpose had been to break the ice as fellow officers, not to open up new vistas of trouble.

"I didn't mean to invade your privacy, Lieutenant." she managed to utter.

"Well, you did! I don't generally shave or shower with a woman unless I've specifically invited her to spend the night."

Rukia's cheeks grew hotter as she fought a sudden vision of this powerful hunk of manhood with a woman in his arms... a woman with her face. Desperately she wished she'd started this conversation when they were both in uniform. She was accustomed to dealing with half-dressed men, but they never affected her the way this one did.

A terrible voice within her warned, Face it, Rukia, this man alerts your female instincts even when he's fully dressed. She was reasonably safe when he was angry. She knew that trouble lay ahead now that he'd calmed down.

"Obviously your sexual habits do not apply to our unique domestic arrangement, Lieutenant," she declared crisply, sorely regretting that they never would. "I am more concerned with our situation at the station house. Have we cleared up any... misunderstandings?"

Ichigo eyed her carefully; she had the feeling that it was a struggle for him to keep his gaze on her face. Did he realize that she was also bare beneath her robe?

Suddenly Rukia felt hot and foolish. Utterly unarmed. To her astonishment, her nipples peaked, and she prayed that the thick pink fabric would conceal the hint of surrender from his view.

"Captain, I'm not sure if we've straightened anything out," Ichigo said carefully, "But I have to admit that I'm not as mad as I was before. I thought you had it in for me. I didn't realize that you were simply... scared."

"Scared?" The word came out in a squeak. Surely he didn't sense that he'd unwittingly aroused her!

"You're scared to death you can't do this job. You're afraid the men will never obey you."

The truth hurt more than Rukia had ever expected it to. Worse yet was her terror that if Ichigo Kurosaki knew the truth, the rest of the men might know it, too.

"Kurosaki, I'd have to be hit by a locomotive to step down from this job!" she said fiercely. It was the simple truth.

Slowly, he nodded. Rukia thought she saw a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

"I didn't say you were a quitter, Captain. I just said that you were scared to death to be swimming upstream."

"I'll do what I came here to do, Kurosaki. With or without you." And I won't yield to these sexual feelings, not now, not ever!

This time he shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll tell you this, Captain. If you need me to shore you up, you're not fit to command."

"I don't need you for anything, Kurosaki," she insisted, desperately hoping that it was true.

And then he smiled, that lazy dimpled smile that had touched her so profoundly once before. "That remains to be seen, Captain. But I'll make you a promise. I'm going to do my job the way I would if any other outsider was brought in here to run my station. I won't go out of my way to keep you afloat, but I won't stab you in the back, either."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I can't expect any more than that."

"You can't expect any less, either," he answered resolutely. "I'm not doing it for you, Captain. I owe it to the badge."

There didn't seem to be anything else to say after that. As the silence stretched on, Rukia caught Ichigo taking closer examination of her. Finally he turned away. But as Ichigo took a step toward the door, Rukia heard him chuckle.

"Lieutenant," she demanded tartly, certain he was laughing at her expense, "You want to let me in on the joke."

He laughed out loud, really beside himself now. "Do you do jokes, Captain? I wouldn't think there was a place for them in the manual."

"Dammit, Kurosaki!" she burst out. "Can't you just-"

"Lighten up?" Again he laughed.

For no good reason, Rukia started to chuckle, too. It was a brief moment of good feeling, but a shared one.

"Tell me," she pressed. "God knows, after yesterday, I need a good laugh."

"Forgive me, Captain," he apologized, still smothering a fetching grin. "I was trying to imagine if you'd be any good in a towel fight. It's one of our favorite activities in the locker room. And then I had a sudden vision of your face if I whipped off this towel right now..." He stopped as a suden flush darkened his neck.

Rukia sobered, acutely aware of his gender. The look in his eyes warned her that he was acutely aware of the difference in their genders, too. "I, uh, have seen a naked man before, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, I bet you have," Kurosaki drawled in a tone so richly laced with innuendo that it would have required a reprimand if he hadn't taken that moment to march through the door to his room.

Rukia drew a deep breath of relief and ordered her sizzling body to cool down. But before she could lock the bathroom door behind him, Ichigo opened it a crack and tossed her his towel.

"Hang it up, would you, bunnyhead?" he asked with a fresh chuckle in his voice. Once more he dazzled her with his dimpled smile.

Suddenly Rukia saw the rest of him-every manly inch-in her female imagination. The vision froze her to the spot with such power, that for a minute she had forgotten Ichigo's last remark. Almost. But then she snapped out of it with a fury. "Dammit, carrot-top, do not mock me, and don't you dare mock the bunny!" she shrieked, suddenly finding herself charging at his door to confront him further. But he had already locked the door, and Rukia could hear him breaking out into another round of raucous laughter at her expense.

AN

How's that for a fast update. Jeez, am I tired. This took forever to write, but it was fun. However, you should enjoy it while you can because I really do have to study for my Regents now, and School won't allow me to keep writing this fast. But don't worry, I won't leave you guys hanging. FYI, this should turn out to be about fourteen or so chapters, just so you know. Just a few more notes. Nikujaga is beef and potato stew. If your wondering, the season they are currently in is Winter. And sorry for any mistakes, but I haven't really had time to reread it. Also, I know a lot happened in this chapter and it ended on kind of a weird note, but bare with me. Alright, review now, pretty please with chocolate sprinkles on top.


	3. Chapter 3

AN

Hello everybody! It's good to be back. I'm sorry to say that this Chapter is shorter than the others, and not much really happens. However, Rukia and Ichigo's relationship does progress, and there will always be drama. To the reviewer who asked, I'm sorry to say that I won't be redoing the bathroom scene in Ichigo's point of view. It's a good idea, but I want to move this thing along. For those of you who think this is moving too fast, don't worry. Just because their kind of like friends now doesn't mean they won't have their problems in the future. I mean, they're not even on a first name basis yet. Also, for those who feel that Ichigo and Rukia are a little OOC, that's kind of the point. Here, I want them to show more emotion than their stoical counterparts in the real series.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Three

Ichigo managed to beat Rukia to the station house, but Sergeant Renji Abarai poked his head out of the locker room and motioned him inside the moment he arrived. About Ichigo's age and one of his closest friends on the force, Renji had been divorced for years and had two children. At the moment he was living with a pretty young woman on the outskirts of Karakura and trying to decide if he was ready to take the plunge again.

Renji was not alone in the locker room. Every man on the day shift was waiting for Ichigo, plus two guys from the night shift about to go home.

Some of them looked angry. Some of them looked shell-shocked. Marechiyo Omaeda, who was overweight and had trouble keeping his uniform buttoned, wore a pathetic frown. Ichigo remembered only too well Rukia's scathing comments the day before about Omaeda's appearance-delivered in front of the other men.

"You've gotta do something about Captain Curvaceous, Ichigo," was Renji's blunt greeting. "We've been talking it over, and we're just not going to last. It would be bad enough to take this kind of abuse from a man, even if we deserved it. But from a looker like that..."

"If I hadn't just gotten cut off from my family, I would quit right now," vowed Omaeda. "I'm a damn good cop, Ichigo. You know I've never shirked my duty, never run from a fight-"

"Well, there was that one time," Ikkaku, another guy from the force spoke up. "You remember don't you, tubby. You thought it would be funny to hide my sake. I distinctly remember you running like a bat out of hell when I found you."

"That's not the point!" Omaeda shouted in frustration. Turning back to Ichigo, he continued, "Anyway, I never protested when you or Jushiro asked me to put in overtime. But I'll be damned if I take fashion lessons from a female!"

Each one of the men had a specific complaint to air. Some of them objected to writing meticulous reports; some objected to being told to shine their shoes. All of them objected to having to put the word Captain in front of a woman's name. And all of them looked to Ichigo to make Rukia vanish so everything would be the way it used to be.

Ichigo himself was torn. Up until this morning, he'd been quite certain that Rukia Kuchiki was the enemy, a vicious-hearted woman who had no redeeming human features despite her tantalizing beauty. But during their latest sparring session, he'd glimpsed something in Rukia he hadn't seen before. A reason for her toughness... and a powerful longing for respect.

She wasn't at all the cold fish he'd first expected. There was a genuine person inside that protective shell... an intelligent woman with hopes and fears and maybe even a sense of humor. Rukia was determined to do her duty, but that didn't mean she enjoyed being disliked. Ichigo was quite certain that his own resentment had truly wounded her.

After promising not to stab her in the back, he now felt a curious obligation to defend her from this communal onslaught. "Look, guys," he said carefully, "We've got a difficult situation here. At the moment, this woman is the boss. Jushiro can't help us anymore. I think our best bet is to try to play the game her way, at least until we get the lay of the land."

"Why doesn't somebody lay her instead?" Ikkaku joked.

"Well, hell, Ichigo's got the best shot at it. He's sleeping right next door to her," Renji said.

Ichigo didn't bother asking how the men knew about their living situation. Instead, he battled with a sudden memory of the morning's tango in the bathroom... Rukia in her robe, he in his towel. He was rarely uneasy with women, but this morning he'd felt positively disconnected...and, to his absolute fury, he'd also felt aroused. He didn't know what she'd been wearing underneath her robe and that magnificent black mane, but he knew it wasn't a uniform. And he also knew, though he hated like hell to admit it, that he'd spent entirely too much time imagining what she would look like bare naked. His imagination was speaking to him now.

"I don't know if Ichigo could stand sleeping with that porcupine. Talk about whips and chains! Can you imagine-"

"My point," Ichigo said firmly, uncomfortable with the tone the men's jokes were taking, "Is that the oath I swore when I became a police officer means I have to obey her... at least when I'm on duty."

Renji shook his head. "You can't mean that you're just going to roll over and play dead, Ichigo! You can't mean you're just giving up."

Ichigo's lips tightened as he thought about the job that was rightfully his. But Rukia's rank required his public respect, and to his surprise, her honesty this morning commanded his personal respect as well.

Swallowing his own apprehensions, he insisted, "As long as she's the Captain, she's the Captain. No matter how bitter this pill is to swallow, in the line of duty we've got to give her the same allegiance we would give any other cop."

Marechiyo Omaeda said, "Hell, Ichigo, I'd like to strangle that broad, but that doesn't mean I'd ever forget she's a fellow cop when the chips are down."

"Neither would I," agreed Renji. "Neither would any of us. But I can't see her rushing to an officer-in-need-of-assistance call if she'd scheduled the afternoon to dictate some damned memo."

Izuru Kira said, "It's just not fair."

Tetsuzaimon Iba said, "Dammit, we can't count on her out there! I don't want to get shot just because she does something stupid."

Ichigo wondered, as the men shuffled out of the room grumbling, if Rukia's worst-case scenario might someday come to pass. What if she gave an order in a crisis and they all looked to Ichigo instead? Professional prudence would dictate that he relay his Captain's commands no matter what his own judgment told him. But his career wouldn't be worth a damn to him if he ignored his own conscience and one of these fellows ended up dead.

Ichigo looked uncomfortable, but not surprised, when Rukia asked him to give her a tour of the town later that morning. Their odd encounter in the bathroom seemed to have cleared the air. She decided to ignore his whimsical farewell-bunnyhead, indeed-and he seemed willing to give the illusion of respect during their encounters at the station house. There was a difference in the other men this morning also. They didn't look quite so sullen and shocked as they had the day before.

Rukia usually drove the first time she got in a car with a man, just to set him thinking of her in an equal light. This time, however, she decided that she needed to listen and observe. It was Ichigo's town and Ichigo's beat. She sat on the passenger side of the cruiser as he effortlessly took the wheel and filled her in on all the subtle things that a police officer needs to know about a new town. She couldn't remember everything, but she made mental notes and a few written ones, too.

As he drove, Ichigo recounted the highlights of Karakura's history, including some tall tales of an old Mexican burial ground. When he told her a funny story about a local man who'd been pantsed by bullies and later found his clothes in the town-square fountain, Rukia was inspired to regale him with the highlights of her own disastrous first day as a rookie. They shared a hearty laugh together, and a little more ice was broken.

"This is the poorer side of town," Ichigo informed her as they cruised to the south after riding for half an hour. "Not that any part of Karakura is really slummy. We're not rich, we're not poor. We're just heartland."

"Oh yeah, I remember Rangiku said something like that last night," she told him. "Rangiku was bringing me up to speed on a lot of things."

"Rangiku!" He laughed. "You'd be surprised how many tips we get from her. Not that anybody confesses to her, you understand, but she's a shrewd observer with some experience in these things."

"What kind of experience?"

Ichigo shrugged. "The story's a bit cloudy, but I understand that she used to be a gangster's moll."

"You're kidding! And she lives under our roof?"

"Captain, give her a break. It was a long time ago. Besides, Rangiku's a good person at heart. She's just... distinctive. I'd rather have a woman like that than one who's colorless."

Rukia wondered if he was talking about her. She did her best to appear colorless on the job-she didn't dare come across as sexy, especially with men under her command-but that didn't mean she wanted a hunk like Ichigo Kurosaki to think of her as as a dishrag. Her potent response to him this morning didn't change the fact that their professional situation precluded even the most subtle of flirtations.

Before Ichigo could figure out her thoughts, Rukia asked, "So when Rangiku comes across some evidence, does she report it to the station."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not. This is Karakura. She deliberately drops some seemingly harmless remark at dinner that no one can ever trace to her. I put two and two together and go check things out. Sometimes it doesn't add up to anything, but sometimes I make an arrest based on her tips."

Rukia watched him closely. "Is that the way you carried out investigations under Jushiro Ukitake."

Now his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That's only one part of the picture, Captain. I use every tool. There's doing it by the book, and there's doing it by the seat of your pants. Sometimes you need both approaches."

Rukia nodded in agreement, deciding to let it go. It was best not to pry anymore lest she upset him. After all, this was sort of the most fun she'd had since she got in town. Well, not including the incident in the bathroom...

Ichigo pointed to a cozy-looking diner near the town square. "This belongs to Isane Kotetsu. It's where Karakkura cops eat on their breaks and hang out when they're off duty."

"In that case, it would probably be a good place to stop for lunch," said Rukia, who was getting hungry. She also wanted to see her men in a different atmosphere than the station house. She knew it wouldn't be possible for her to be accepted as "one of the guys", but she still might gain some valuable insights about her officers and their town.

"Is that an order, Captain?" Ichigo didn't sound angry this time, just unsure.

"It's an invitation, Lieutenant. My treat. Good heavens, I never had to explain it when I said the same thing to my partner."

She'd intended the words as a cheerful pleasantry, but for some reason Ichigo's tone was jarringly cool as he muttered, "I guess now's as good a time as any," and parked the car.

Rukia was sorry to see that he was scowling again, just when she'd hoped they were making genuine progress. It was an old story, but sometimes it really wore her down. How many times in her career had she run up against professional hostility from men? How many times had they opposed her openly or sabotaged her career behind her back? Her file was bulging with undocumented petty complaints by misogynist fellow cops. She didn't know why she'd ever hoped she could expect better from Ichigo Kurosaki.

"Sometimes I think you forget that I'm a police officer, too, Kurosaki," she said bitterly. "I'm really not so different from the rest of you."

"Captain, you convinced me you were a cop the first night we met," Ichigo snapped. "You didn't even have to show me your badge. You just dumped me on my ass." He studied her gravely. "Has it ever occurred to you that you might be working overtime trying to prove yourself?"

"Wouldn't you?" Rukia asked defensively. "I've taken over a substation where not one man likes me or trusts me. Every damn one of them would like to see me hightailing it out of town so you could take my place. I have nightmares about waking up with you standing over my bed with a knife!" She hadn't meant to confess that, not to Ichigo, not to anyone. But the words were out, and now all she could say was, "I'm in an armed camp, alone against the enemy. In my position, don't you think you'd be guarding your flank, too?"

His square jaw jutted out as he faced her. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

Warily Rukia answered, "Of course."

"You're right that the men don't trust you. They think you're mean as hell. But you're missing the whole picture of the Karakura substation if you think you're surrounded by the enemy. You haven't yet managed to destroy the camaraderie that makes being a cop in Karakura something special, and you're still an officer, still one of us. We're sworn to protect the public, and by god, we're sworn to protect each other, too. The men may joke about you in the locker room and curse each time they hold one of your stupid memos in their hands, but if you ever have to draw your weapon in the line of duty, Captain, there's not a man on the force who wouldn't lay down his life for you." Before she could respond, he finished, "What hurts us all is that we don't think you'd do the same for any one of us."

Rukia wasn't sure how to answer that. She was touched and wounded, honored and crushed. Clumsily she said, "I'm good with a gun, Kurosaki. If I thought I could save a fellow officer's life, I'd use it without reservation."

"That's what Momo Hinamori claimed," he hissed. "Brave as ever! Smart as a whip. She was teamed up with Uryu Ishida when I made Sergeant. She froze during a robbery and some bastard shot him right through the heart!"

Ichigo made no efert to cloak his grief, and Rukia knew he couldn't have done so, anyway. She knew what it felt like to loose a partner. Kaien Shiba had once come perilously close to death. The bullet scar on her left shoulder was a permanent reminder of how she'd saved his life.

"Oh, Kuroosaki, I know how that hurts!" Rukia sympathetically confessed. "When my partner was shot, I-"

"You froze on him, too?"

Rukia pulled back, angry and hurt all over again. "Isn't it remotely possible that I did my part? My God, officers go down all the time when they're teamed with men! Nobody jumps at the chance to cast blame in those cases!"

"Maybe you did your part and maybe you didn't," Ichigo growled. "Maybe your partner was too busy worrying about you to cover his own back. All I know is that Uryu Ishida was my partner, dammit, and I know that if I'd been beside him, he'd still be alive!"

"Then blame yourself for leaving him behind when you got promoted, Kurosaki! Don't blame me and don't blame every female cop!"

He jerked back as if she'd hit him. "You don't think I feel guilty for moving on and leaving him? You don't think I feel the weight of it bearing down on me at night like a tombstone on my chest?"

The anguish that filled his eyes made Rukia ashamed that she'd added to his pain. In hindsight she realized that Kurosaki wasn't trying to attack her. He was only wrestling with his own despair.

"Kurosaki, I'm sorry." Instinctively she gripped his arm. "I had no right to say that. This is a terrible buisness. People die in any war. Your partner's death was tragic, but it's not your fault!"

Through his regulation jacket, Rukia could feel the masculine strength of his corded biceps. His tense breathing seemed to match her own, heightening her keen awareness of his powerful warmth. She didn't want to be touched by his humanity, his maleness, the vulnerable corners of his heart. It was so much easier to see him as the enemy. So much easier to keep a hostile distance.

Ichigo turned away from her sharply, breaking her hold on his arm. While Rukia swallowed her hurt, he stared out the window for a long, quiet moment, then confessed, "Captain, I've got a lot of reasons to resent you. Deep in my heart, I know that most of them don't have a lot to do with you as a person. I'm sorry I've been so damn hard to work with."

To her surprise, Rukia said, "I'm sorry, too."

He managed a thin smile. His dimples barely winked. "When I said most of them didn't have a lot to do with you, I didn't mean I like the way you're running the station. You can be a tigress. I just meant that... if I'm going to hate you, I ought to hate you for the right reasons. All this other baggage-my promotion, Uryu's death-well, that's not playing fair."

Rukia had to admire Ichigo's ethics. Even when he was angry, he seemed like a man she could trust. He'd come a long way in the past two days, and she didn't want to push him. Still, she had to ask, "I don't suppose you could consider not hating me at all? The men will take their cue from you. I'd rather not spend the next few years on the outside looking in."

Ichigo studied her for a long, thoughtful moment. "You've spent most of your career that way, haven't you, Captain?" he perceptively observed. "On the outside looking in."

Reluctantly she nodded. It was too obvious to deny. "I'm a woman doing a man's job in a man's world, Kurosaki. I'm always staring at somebody's back."

She paused a moment, then went on to say, "I am who I am, Lieutenant. I can't be anybody else."

"No," he quietly agreed, his brown eyes finally showing a glimmer of warmth. "I guess you can't. And frankly... I don't think you should have to be. I'm sorry if I made you feel that... well, that the real Rukia Kuchiki wasn't welcome here."

Rukia had no idea how to reply to that, but fortunately, she didn't have to say anything. Ichigo abruptly ended their heart-to-heart talk by opening his door and hopping out of the car. He didn't open Rukia's door for her-some policemen actually had tried to-but he did keep the diner door from slamming in her face as she followed him inside.

Blocked by his impressive height and broad shoulders, Rukia couldn't see around Ichigo to get a good look at the place, but she could certainly smell the pepperoni and hear the cheery repartee. The instant he set foot inside, half a dozen people raised a hand or called out, "Hey Ichigo!" while Ichigo himself gave the group one of those dazzling grins that froze Rukia every time it was cast in her direction.

One grizzled old man called out, "I hear that new spitfire is blistering your backside, boy! How can we help you get rid of her?"

The fellow next to him joshed, "Oh, Ichigo don't need no help. Just you wait. He'll have that filly on the run in no time. Everybody knows that Captain's chair is Ichigo's rightful place."

"We all know that's the truth," said a tall woman behind the counter in a pink uniform. Her nametag said Isane, and the tone of her voice announced quite clearly that she was proud to own the place. She snapped a dish towel at Ichigo, smacking him sharply on his badge as she grinned at him.

Ichigo stepped aside so Rukia could see everybody in the restaurant better, and so everybody could see her. Isane swallowed a small gasp as she read the name on Rukia's badge, and gave an embarrassed grin.

"Isane, this is Captain Rukia Kuchiki," Ichigo declared with more dignity than Rukia thought she could have managed in the same situation. And then, as the room went from jovially cheerful to starklly silent, he said, "I imagine if you serve the Captain one of your sushi rolls, you'll have a friend for life."

Under the circumstances, it was a gift... far more than Rukia had ever expected from Ichigo Kurosaki. "Nice to meet you, Isane," she said cordially.

"Nice to meet you, uh, Captain."

Rukia was about to feign an enthusiastic remark about sushi-even though she hated it-when Ichigo started ushering her toward a booth in the back. As he sat down, her eyes met his with open gratitude, and he looked back with a curious blend of pleasure and discomfort.

Suddenly she felt ashamed of how crusty she'd been with him ever since she'd arrived in Karakura. He was a man, and her promotion had certainly stripped him of his pride in front of his friends. How many men would have treated her with warmth under the circumstances?

Yet abruptly, to Rukia's astonishment, Ichigo smiled. It didn't seem like an accident this time; it didn't seem artificial or strained. He looked like a man who was happy to stop for lunch with a friend or a colleague. Who was maybe even proud to be seen with a beautiful woman. Who might be pleased to know that the woman in question secretly thought he was the sexiest man she'd ever seen.

Unable to stop herself, Rukia found herself grinning back, thrilled to see those brown eyes sparkle, thrilled to share even the briefest moment of camaraderie with Ichigo. Her happiness grew as she heard him say to Isane with deceptive nonchalance, "The Captain says it's her treat today, so you better start running her a tab."

Rukia swallowed hard as she realized that Ichigo had just handed Isane Kotetsu-and everybody else within earshot-his personal letter of recommendation. He could have let this crowd assume that he was stuck with her today because he couldn't refuse to eat lunch with his Captain. Instead he'd found a way to say, "I'll vouch for Rukia Kuchiki." It was nickels and dimes, but it was a start.

AN

If your wondering, I don't hate Momo Hinamori. But for that part it was either her or Orihime, and I had already used her. When she's not being psycho over Aizen, I actually like Momo very much. Well, there's not much else to say. Review pretty please with extra sprinkles on top, and just PM me like you have been doing if you have any further questions or comments.


	4. Chapter 4

AN

Hello, hello! Glad to be back. Sorry this one is also kind of short. But, in two weeks there will be no more school, no more tests, and lots and lots of free time. So, yay for that! Thanks to everybody for your support and here it is, just for you guys.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Four

By the end of Rukia's first week on the job, Ichigo had resigned himself to accepting her Captaincy. They were certainly on much better terms than they had been when she'd disturbed his shower, but most of the time she still remained pretty formal, especially at work. At home or alone in her office she sometimes said something downright friendly, and if Ichigo really worked at it, he could get her to laugh. But in front of the men she was still all buisness, and in their presence Ichigo made sure to treat her with the utmost of respect. They were still wary around her, but they kept their anger in check. Renji still didn't trust her, and said so on a regular basis. Orihime cowered every time Rukia entered the room. Omaeda had bought a larger shirt and had gone on a diet. Everybody but Rukia knew.

Right now the force was handling a case involving a dead body which had been found by a river two days previously. It was speculated to be the body of a missing resident woman from 10 years ago. Captain Curvaceous had told him to have the dental records of the deceased checked out so that they could make a match. The overworked county coroner had promised to get back to him with the dental records in about a week.

In the meantime, he had an investigation of his own to pursue, one he kept quite diligently from Rukia. A few discreet calls here and there had sent out the hounds, and the first to report came to Ichigo by mid-December from Shinji Hirako, an old pal from the police academy. Nowadays Shinji was a Lieutenant at the Osaka substation, with his eye on the Captain's chair.

"Sorry I'm late," Shinji apologized as he joined Ichigo for lunch at a coffee shop on the highway one Friday afternoon. It was about halfway between Osaka and Karakura, a natural place to get together to catch up on old times, which they did every month or so. "We just got hit for the second time by two punks in a blue van. I had to check out an anonymous tip on my way here, but it didn't pan out."

"That's okay. Sorry you couldn't nail the guys," commiserated Ichigo, who was enjoying spending his day off in a sweatsuit instead of a uniform. "Things have been pretty quiet out our way."

"Well, that may be about to change," warned Shinji. "These two guys were working Yokohama for a few weeks before they moved on to us. Just when the Yokohama substation gathered enough information to lay a trap, they vanished into thin air."

"And showed up ten miles down the road."

"You got it. And since you're another ten miles or so away from Osaka, I figured they'll move on to Karakura when they feel us nipping at their heels. Why don't I have a copy of the file sent over to you? It might help you get the jump on them."

They broke off long enough to order, then Shinji asked, "I imagine you're eager to know what I found out about your Captain."

"Well, now that you mention it..." Ichigo's eyes met his friend's. Two weeks ago he'd been reasonably certain that Shinji, or one of the other guys he'd put on Rukia's trail, would turn up some dirt. Now, curiously, he suspected that her record was as clean as his own. Odder yet, he really hoped that nobody would uncover evidence that he'd be honor-bound to turn over to Commander Zaraki for the protection of his men.

Ichigo couldn't describe his relationship with Rukia; he wasn't even sure he could call it that. But he knew that he felt something for her that made him feel edgy about gathering information behind her back. If he'd been the only one involved, he would have called off his cronies by now. But Uryu's ghost still followed him some days at the station house, and he could not shake his obligation to the other men.

"The Kuchiki woman has an interesting history. Three partners within the first two years in the county. The first two both asked to be reassigned."

Ichigo wasn't surprised. What man in his right mind would want to be Rukia Kuchiki's riding partner? Even if a guy could learn to trust a female cop, Rukia's penchant for bureaucratic details would wear him down. Besides, you wanted to feel close to your partner going into a fight. Rukia kept everybody at a distance.

Still, Ichigo was secretly glad that she kept to herself. A man could get into a lot of trouble getting close to Rukia Kuchiki. She was one of the prettiest women he'd ever met, especially when that raven black hair fell over her shoulders and licked at her cleavage...a sight he'd been allowed to savor only once or twice, when he'd encountered her in her bathrobe. When she was playing supercop, she wasn't too hard to ignore. But during those rare sweet moments when she'd let him see past her Captain's shell, he'd glimpsed a caring, vulnerable woman who could be a powerful temptation.

Fortunately, those glimpses had been few and far between. And the temptation had been... well, Ichigo was doing his damnedest not to dwell on the temptation. He had his hands full just dealing with reality.

As he pondered the possible reasons a cop generally asked for a new partner, he realized that Rukia's prior partners' motives mattered a great deal to him. Personality clashes or prejudice against women cops were one thing; safety snafus were something else. Warily he asked, "Do you know why they asked for a change, Shinji?"

"Not yet, but I've got their names and I'll get more feedback pretty soon. As to the third guy, he didn't ask for another partner, but that's probably because he was in the hospital when Kuchiki was promoted to Sergeant six years ago."

"Hospital?" Ichigo repeated the word like an epithet, recalling Rukia's defensiveness when he'd accused her of letting her partner down. "What happened, exactly? Was he shot in the line of duty?" He knew Rukia was right when she said it wasn't fair of him to assume she was responsible for whatever had happened, but Uryu's death was a raw wound that had not yet healed, and he found it hard to believe that in a shoot-out a woman cop could be anything but a liability.

"She was riding with him in that crummy downtown area of Seireitei when he got shot," Shinji replied. "That's all I've got so far. You told me it was more important to be subtle than speedy, so I've sort of had to wait until I just run into these guys, you know?"

"I know, Shinji. You're doing it right. If she finds out I'm having her checked out, I'll be crucified. But there are twenty-five men at this substation, Shinji. I can't..." He paused a moment, then said guardedly, "They count on me. I have to know."

"I don't blame you, buddy," Shinji said almost gently. "I'll get back to you with an update as soon as I can scratch up any more details."

"Thanks, Shinji. I owe you one."

After that the conversation drifted off to Shinji's wife, Hiyori, and kids-a new baby had arrived just last month- and Ichigo did his best to show some interest. Normally he was glad to hear that Shinji was doing well, but for some reason, he didn't want to hear about another man's happy family life today. He was tired of being alone, tired of being single... and tired of fantasizing about Rukia's supple form each time he heard her turn on the shower.

On his way back from lunch with Shinji Hirako, Ichigo dropped by the High School and played a little one-on-one with Toshiro at the gym. He was hot and sweaty and ready to head for the shower when he came home around suppertime, but the phone was ringing as he walked in the door. Nobody else seemed to be around, so he hurried into the kitchen and caught it on the seventh ring.

It was Renji Abarai, who said with evident relief, "Ichigo, I've been trying to reach you all afternoon. The coroner called and confirmed that Meiko Kuna's dental records matched the teeth of the body found out by the river. Captain Curvaceous wants to go tell the Kunas right away, but she asked me if there was somebody on the force who knew them well. I told her how it is with you and Mashiro, and she decided it would be better if the news came from you."

Ichigo was surprised-and curiously pleased-that Rukia was sensitive enough to recognize the delicacy of the situation. He had gone to High School with Mashiro, and remembered in great detail her sorrow after her mother had gone missing. "Tell her I'll go right over there, Renji. Thanks for tracking me down."

"Wait a minute! She doesn't want you to go by yourself. She wants to go along."

Ichigo pondered that a minute. "Why?"

"Ask her! I'm just the messenger boy. And, Ichigo?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell Mash I'm really sorry." Renji hardly knew Mashiro, but his soft spot for the ladies was showing its head.

"Will do."

Ichigo barely had time to shower and change before Rukia picked him up at the curb in her cruiser. "That was quick," he commented as he hoped in the passenger seat.

Rukia allowed herself to crack a frosty smile. "Well, I do know where you live."

He wasn't sure if her casual, almost indifferent comeback was a good sign or not. It could mean either that they were growing comfortable enough with each other to dispense with the formalities, or that she was pulling back from him again.

"May I ask a question, Captain?" he asked after giving her directions to Mashiro's house. "Why didn't you want me to deliver this news by myself?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure that I'm under any obligation to justify my decisions to you, Lieutenant," she answered evasively. "But I will tell you I've had some personal experiences... experiences that help me understand what such news may mean to this family. I know it's been ten years or so, and it can't be too much of a surprise, but still..."

Ichigo didn't trust the sudden softness in her tone. He never knew what to do with Rukia Kuchiki when her shell cracked and he caught a glimpse into her heart, and he had a hunch he was catching a glimpse of it now.

He waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he prodded, "What personal experiences?"

Soberly, Rukia's eyes met his. For a moment Ichigo didn't think she was going to speak. Then she said softly, "All her life, I mean most of her life, Mashiro Kuna has believed that her mother abandoned her when she was a little girl, I mean teenager. I..." She stopped and swallowed hard, as though she wasn't at all sure she wanted to continue. As though she might be swallowing back tears?

Ichigo had a sudden eerie feeling that he wasn't seeing a compassionate mirage of a kindly Rukia; this was the real thing. It was the hard-nosed cop that was the mirage.

The notion shook him, rocked him back on his heels. If the real Rukia Kuchiki was a sensitive woman, with old lingering wounds and fresh hopes and fears, then he'd treated her abysmally! His feeble eferts at superficial friendliness meant nothing.

Guardedly he studied her as she pulled up for a yellow light, then lingered until it had been green for half a minute before driving on again. It was the first time Ichigo had ever seen her do anything slowly. She was always on the run, cracking orders, hustling here and there.

But not today. There was no snap in Captain Kuchiki this afternoon. No whip crack. No fire.

"Captain," Ichigo said carefully as she pulled up in front of the house, "I'm open to any insight you could offer. They'll know I'm as sorry as hell, but I'd welcome any help I can get."

Rukia seemed to shrink before his eyes. She didn't look at him, and she was so quiet while they walked up to the front door that Ichigo thought she was going to refuse to answer him. If she'd acted angry, he wouldn't have minded; it was her complete absence of resistance that worried him.

It was not until she'd rung the doorbell that Rukia said softly, "I knew a man whose woman abandoned him and their five-yeard-old daughter. It was a crushing blow from which he never recovered. He used to say it would have been easier to bear if she'd died outright. Knowing she was alive somewhere without him made it impossible to burry her."

Again she swallowed hard, then met his eyes. There was a sadness in those violet depths Ichigo had never seen before, and he knew that the man in question wasn't a casual stranger.

"If Mashiro and Seno could think about Meiko's death as proof that she didn't just run off and leave them, they might be able to... to salve some of those old wounds." Her voice dropped to an impassioned whisper. "It's terrible for a little girl to learn that her mother is dead, but it can't be any worse than believing that she never loved her at all."

With sudden piercing clarity, Ichigo realized that Rukia wasn't talking about Mashiro. She was talking about herself! He couldn't believe how deeply the realization wounded him. No wonder Rukia was so hellbent on independence, so afraid to show weakness or to risk depending on anybody else! No wonder this contradictory, conpelling woman was as hard as iron and as soft as velvet at the same time!

She'd been abandoned by her mother as a little girl. Suddenly, without further rational thought, acting on an impulsive whim that he might live to regret, Ichigo engulfed Rukia in a tight, comforting hug. She was going to kill him later and he should probably stop while he was ahead, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. And then she wrapped her arms around him and all thoughts of moving even an inch flew right out of his head.

AN

Sorry to end like that, but the next Chap will pick up right where that one left off. Thanks again to all of you guys! Pretty please review with chocolate syrup, chocolate sprinkles, and a big fat cherry on top!


	5. Chapter 5

AN

I'm back! Sorry for the cliffie last chap but you guys are going to have to get used to it, since there will be a bunch more. Once again I say thanks to all of you out there for your support and taking the time to even read this thing. Also, sorry I kinda missed my mark last week, but I've discovered that with the free time, summer also brings laziness. Oh well. Alright, without further ado, let's get back to the story!

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Five

Rukia hadn't meant to reveal so much of herself to Ichigo, but she was operating on only half her cylinders and was no match for him tonight. All day she'd been fighting a fever and swollen tonsils; now she was certain she'd caught strep throat from Orihime. If she hadn't been feeling so weak and vulnerable, she would never have told him about her mother. She most certainly wouldn't be standing on the Kunas' front porch fighting back tears.

And then a warm male arm settled around her and drew her into a tight hug. Everything in Rukia's brain shut down. She had no idea what to do now. What did he think he was doing? What did she think she was doing? She should pull away, right now, immediately, pronto. But it seemed as if her body was ignoring her brain when her arms, of their own accord, tightly wrapped around Ichigo and her head fell on to his chest.

"Captain," he said gently, "I'm sorry that-"

He broke off as the door to the house flew open to reveal a young woman with hazel eyes and wavy lime-green hair. "Ichigo," she said hesitantly. She looked at them entwined with each other and blinked twice. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No, not at all," Rukia said quickly, finally finding the strength to pull away and step back. The girl sent her a sly wink as if to say "suuuuure" before turning to address Ichigo.

"Hey, strawberry!" she greeted him enthusiastically. "How come you always show up just in time for dinner? Anyway, come on in, everyone's here."

"Slow your role there, hot pants," Ichigo said, grabbing her arm before she could step back. "I thought I told you not to call me strawberry?"

"And since when have I listened to you?" she asked as she gave him a sisterly hug.

"Never," he ammended. He kissed her on the cheek, then asked a personal question about her recent marriage. She gave him a saucy answer, but when she mentioned her husband's name, she positively glowed.

"Hi! I'm Mashiro. You must be Ichigo's new boss," she said with a mischievous grin as she turned to Rukia. "He just loves working with women cops. Ask anyone."

Ichigo gave his friend a mock glare, but his tone was cheerfully indulgent as he chided her. "Mashiro, this is Captain Rukia Kuchiki. Zip it up while I've still got a job, okay?"

Mashiro laughed. "Don't let him fool you, Rukia. Ichigo may talk tough but he's nothing more than a big softie." Then she winked. "Of course, I think you already know that, now don't you."

Rukia was horrified to feel her face grow hot. No, god no, she could not be blushing! She was NOT blushing! But when she heard Ichigo start to chuckle and Mashiro say, "Oops, I've embarrassed her!", she knew that she was in fact blushing. Damn!

Rukia didn't know what to say. She wanted to respond with a joke perhaps, but she was feeling increasingly weak and dizzy. She would rather blame it on her increasing sickness that was getting harder to hide than that stupid blush. "He's a splendid officer," she finally blurted, trying not to meet his eyes as he quickly glanced her way.

Slipping her arm through Ichigo's, Mashiro smiled again. "He's not too bad as a friend, either."

Ichigo grinned back, but not for long. Rukia suspected that he was having trouble bringing himself to spoil Mashiro's good mood. Sharing bad news with this family was not going to be easy for him.

For all her giddiness, Mashiro seemed to sense that their call wasn't as casual as it looked. More seriously she asked, "Is there something wrong, Ichi, or did you and Captain Kuchiki just stop by to say hello?"

Ichigo squeezed her hand as though she were a child. "A little of both, Mashiro."

Her eyes grew big. The sauciness began to fade. Rukia noticed that Mashiro swallowed hard, looking afraid.

"Tell me, Ichigo," she whispered. "It's my mother, isn't it?"

Slowly, he nodded. "I'm sorry, Mash."

His gentleness touched something deep inside of Rukia. He had to be hands down one of the nicest men she'd ever met. And she was only just now realizing it. It was refreshing really, to be near someone so kind. Though she'd loved her father, his indifferent attitude had always wounded her just a bit. She had grown up with it and had gotten used to it, but still a little niceness never hurt.

"I guess I sort of knew right from the start," Mashiro sadly admitted. "I just didn't want to believe it was really her!"

"I know," Ichigo said reassuringly.

"I've always thought of her... off somewhere, living a life of glamour, a free spirit. Sort of like me." Her eyes suddenly pooled, and Rukia realized why Ichigo had been worried about this family. If the news could reduce this spunky girl to tears, she could imagine how it would strike the rest of them. "It's going to kill dad, Ichigo!"

Suddenly Rukia understood the tears; the tone in Mashiro's voice said it all. It wasn't Meiko she was grieving for. It was her father.

Ichigo put his arms around Mashiro, then said softly, "Oh, I don't know, Mashiro. Think of it this way. Seno's always believed his wife didn't give a damn about him. At least he's going to know that Meiko didn't abandon him. I bet he loved her with all his heart."

Mashiro looked mystified, but somehow soothed as she stepped back. "Do you really think so, Ichigo?"

He squeezed her arm once more. "I think it'll help a little. For sure it will help cushion the blow."

Rukia wasn't so sure. In the back of her mind she was almost half-sure that Seno had killed his flighty wife. But if she was wrong, Ichigo's kind words would certainly give him some measure of comfort.

The fact that he'd trusted Rukia's judgment enough to share her insight gave her comfort, too. Of it's own volition, her mind returned to that fateful hug. It had felt so nice, so right, so comfortable, when she was feeling so low. She'd had to really fight not to shed a few tears in his arms. Rukia shook herself as she realized that even if she weren't feeling tearful, it would be all too pleasant to spend some time in Ichigo's arms. It was a fantasy she couldn't indulge for even a second. Some things weren't even safe to dream.

Rukia followed Ichigo inside, where he gently shared the news with the rest of the family-Seno, Mashiro's husband, Kensei and another young man and woman about Mashiro's age whom Ichigo introduced as her lawyer cousin, Lisa, and her husband, Love. Kensei got up and quietly moved to stand beside Mashiro, his mere presence a mute buffer between her and the world.

After Rukia's preliminary discussion of Meiko's disappearance with Jushiro Ukitake, she was fairly certain that the old chief knew-or at least suspectted-more than he was telling. She feared the same might be true of Ichigo. Jushiro claimed that ten years ago Seno had reported his wife missing and filed for divorce on the grounds of desertion. End of story. The retired chief claimed to have no recollection of any personal problems the couple might have been having, any extramarital affairs, any previous displays of temper, any weapons kept at the house, any evidence of foul play. In fact, he showed not even the most rudimentary interest in what had actually transpired-odd for any cop.

But Rukia's interest was keen, and despite how she was feeling, she watched Seno closely as the whole family waited stiffly for Ichigo to explain why they'd come. Rukia suspected every one of them was sure what he was going to say before he said it. Still, when Seno actually heard the words, "I'm sorry, Seno, but Meiko's dental records match the coroner's report on the woman found by the lake," he slumped as though somebody had punched him in the stomach. He didn't seem to notice when Ichigo laid a kind hand on his shoulder. To Rukia, he looked pretty genuine, but still... Lisa burst into tears and she and Mashiro hugged while the rest of the menfolk stood with solemn frowns.

Rukia and Ichigo stayed about fifteen minutes, until the shock had subsided and it became obvious that the family needed some time alone. Rukia said little, letting Ichigo handle everything. It was obvious that this wasn't the time to grill Seno Kuna. Besides, by then Rukia knew she was in no condition to be grilling anyone.

After Ichigo had shaken hands with all the men and hugged all the women, he walked in silence to Rukia's cruiser, keeping remarkably close to her side. As she slipped into the passenger seat-afraid she was too weak to drive-he took the wheel and said softly, "Captain, I have a confession to make."

Not now, she wanted to tell him. Whatever you've done to betray me, it'll have to wait until I'm well.

But he continued, "I suspected that you were hoping to catch Seno off guard tonight. I thought you might take advantage of the situation to interrogate him."

There was a long, slow silence. Damn, he was sharp! Rukia didn't want to lie to him, but she didn't want to share her theories yet, either. She was fairly confident-or merely hopeful-that Ichigo wasn't involved in a cover-up, but she wasn't entirely certain yet. All she knew for sure was that she was too woozy to make intelligent decisions tonight.

Guardedly, she admitted, "To be honest with you, Lieutenant, you were half-right. It bothers me that nobody pushed harder to identify Meiko's body before I came to Karakura. Obviously it wasn't that difficult to do. I think someone would just as soon leave the questions surrounding her death unanswered. The only question is who."

Ichigo studied her quietly. "You think it's Seno."

"He's the most obvious suspect. I have no trouble imagining that a man might fly into a rage when he finds out his wife is about to leave him. But there are lots of other people who've lived here long enough to kill Meiko, or long enough to want to protect whoever was involved in her death." When Ichigo didn't answer, Rukia reminded him, "I think somebody murdered that poor woman, Kurosaki! I don't care how many years have passed. I want the killer to pay for that!"

For a long moment Ichigo studied her face, as though he were trying to hear something she hadn't said. At last he assured her, "Captain, that's what I want, too."

His eyes held a curious look that Rukia was too weary to ponder, but she knew that the quiet smile slowly stealing over his virile face made her feel terribly happy...and afraid. She needed Ichigo's friendship... longed for it almost too much. Rukia told herself that wanting the cheerful companionship of one's peers was a sensible, healthy thing, but as much as she'd cared for her former partner, she knew that her heart had never flip-flopped when he'd warmed her with a grin. Her heart was flip-flopping now!

Dutifully Rukia reviewed her litany of reasons why she could never consider getting involved with Ichigo, but tonight they seemed to ring a bit hollow. She'd never particuilarly wanted to break her own golden rule about not dating subordinates, had never given any thought to risking her career. She wasn't giving it serious thought now, either... but it bothered her that she couldn't just shut Ichigo out of her mind as easily as she did most men. Her father had tought her early on never to lean on anybody, never to let emotion cloud her judgment. She never had, and in order to keep the hard edge that was vital to her success as a woman cop, she'd vowed she never would. But it wasn't easy to keep a hard edge when she was fighting a fever.

Ichigo drove silently for a mile or two, then asked, "You haven't had dinner yet, have you, Captain?"

"No, but-"

"You want to swing by Isane's and pick up something?"

It was the most casual of invitations, an exact match in tone to Rukia's offer to take Ichigo to lunch the first day they'd ridden together. It was the first time anybody in Karakura had asked her to do anything social. It was the sort of offer she had longed for. The sort of offer she couldn't possibly accept tonight.

"Lieutenant, that sounds like a great idea, but I'll... I'll have to take a rain check."

He shot her a wounded glance. "Hot date tonight, huh, Captain?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just-"

"You don't need to explain, Captain. I was just trying to be civil. No disrespect intended. Don't get your backup."

His tone was caustic, more caustic, it seemed to Rukia, than she deserved. She was sick, dammit! Couldn't he see that? Oh, she'd gone out of her way not to tell him. Professionally, it had seemed quite wise. Personally, she was beginning to regret it.

Awkwardly she hedged, "I really would like a rain check, Lieutenant. The truth is, I've had a very long day and all I want to do is go home and crawl into bed."

Ichigo pulled up to the curb, turned off the engine and tossed Rukia the keys. "Your call, Captain." He quickly hopped from her cruiser and headed for his truck. He was already halfway there by the time he said goodbye.

Rukia echoed him bleakly. She was tempted to stop him, to gush out all the feelings that had been building up inside her since her first week on the job. She wanted to tell him that she enjoyed his company greatly, that she was flattered and touched that he wanted to spend even a moment of his spare time with her, let alone risk a ribbing from the guys by taking her to their hangout on a Friday night. She wanted to tell him how very ill she was. She wanted to confess that she was tired of her solitary battle with job frustration, loneliness and holiday grief.

But Rukia knew that opening up to Ichigo when she was at such a low might well be fatal. There were too many risks at stake. She should have gone to bed hours ago when she'd first become aware of her symptoms; by now the virus had leveled her completely. She was feeling so faint and tearful that she'd be lucky to make it up the stairs by herself.

It took all Rukia's strength to drag herself out of the car and up the sidewalk. Her greatest fear was that she might collapse in front of Ichigo and he'd have to carry her up to her room. If that happened, she knew he'd never let her live it down.

Ichigo spent the next day cleaning out the basement as a favor to Uncle Kisuke, who always worked too hard. It would take some digging to find the Christmas tree ornaments Aunt Yoruichi would want any day, so it was a good time to sort through the rest of the family junk and throw some of it away. By late afternoon Ichigo had spent hours going through boxes of his childhood mementos and his parents' things. He still kept several pieces of their favorite furniture-and a beautifully patterned quilt his grandmother had made for his parents' wedding-in hopes of recapturing a sense of their home when he furnished his own someday. Until recently, he'd been happy enough with the Uraharas, but a loving Aunt and Uncle didn't take the place of a wife.

When Ichigo found an old black-and-white TV-a relic of his childhood-he decided to haul it upstairs and see if he could get it working. His favorite football team were having such a great season that he didn't want to miss a single game-a difficult task when he had to share TV time with Rangiku. A few new wires and a replacement tube would give him a backup set for his room in no time. He was rummaging for parts when he heard the phone ring in the kitchen. As soon as he answered it, Ichigo recognized the voice of Nanao Ise, one of the police dispatchers. Nanao was a crusty old gal, a lot tougher than Orihime, so Rukia didn't intimidate her much.

"I've got a message for Captain Curvaceous," she declared sarcastically, "if Her Highness will take the time to come to the phone."

"The Captain isn't here, Nanao. I haven't seen her all day," Ichigo replied. "I figured she was working. That's all she does when she's awake. The woman is absolutely indefatigable." Last night she'd been singing a different tune, he remembered sourly, but that had only been a courteous way to reject his invitation. What had he been thinking of, asking her out like that? At the time it had seemed like a natural thing for two cops to do at dinnertime, but Rukia's stilted response had made Ichigo reconsider his motivation. It was scary to think that he might have been asking Captain Kuchiki for a date.

"Well, she's not here, either," said Nanao, "and she left word last night that she could be reached at home in case of an emergency."

Ichigo stiffened, his professional instincts moving into high gear. "Give me the scoop, Nanao. I can be there in five-"

"No, you don't need to come in, Ichigo. In fact, if Jushiro were still in charge, I'd just take a message and wait till Monday. But you know how she is..." Nanao sighed dramatically. "Marechiyo Omaeda hurt himself when he fell off a ladder putting up his Christmas tree. Got dizzy from the diet he's been on to get the Captain off his back. Wrenched his neck. Retsu Unohana checked him over, says he'll be all right, but that he shouldn't work for a few weeks. She might want to juggle schedules or something. And she'll probably come up with eight new forms to fill out to cover any and all contingencies."

Ichigo wanted to tell Nanao she was exaggerating-she was-but he understood her frustration. The new paperwork was excessive, and even if Rukia did insist it was required by the county, the fact remained that she approved of the system. Aloud, he said, "Look, Nanao, I'll just leave her a note. She stuck a little bulletin board on her door so we won't lose her messages. She's even got memo forms at home!" After he hung up, Ichigo did the one thing he figured Rukia would never do- call Omaeda's family to see if he needed anything.

Once assured that his friend was okay, he wrote a careful note for Rukia-with three times the details he would have left for Jushiro-then glanced out the front window before clumping up the stairs to leave the message. It was odd that Rukia hadn't checked in with Nanao if she'd been gone all day... and odder yet that her cruiser had been out front since he'd parked it there last night. Rukia's BMW still sat in the driveway. Surely she hadn't gone off for the weekend with someone else-some man? Had her phony excuse about feeling tired last night been a deliberate ruse to help her slip away without arousing his suspicions?

Ichigo felt a sudden, tense fury that he knew had no place in their relationship, a fury that seemed suspiciously close to jealousy. He didn't like the idea of Rukia turning him down, but he couldn't stand the idea of her lying to him so she could slink off with some other man! He shook himself as he realized that Rukia couldn't leave town without telling him- he was second in command after all. Granted, they weren't on intimate terms, but they were at least trying to work together, and she was a stickler for playing by the rules.

Besides, he wondered, what man in his right mind would want to spend a weekend with Rukia Kuchiki? Ichigo's neck suddenly flamed as he realized the answer he'd been dodging now for days- he would. It was crazy! He wasn't sure just how he felt about Rukia; he knew he didn't quite trust her. But there was something about her that kept drawing him closer, something that went beyond her beautiful eyes and magnificent legs. Maybe it was the paradox he sensed in her-she acted so tough and invulnerable, doing her damnedest not to let anybody know that inside she was a sweetie. Maybe it was the paradox she brought out in him. Ichigo kept finding himself cheering Rukia on, but deep inside, he knew he still expected her to fail flat on her face.

Vigorously he pushed away everything he'd learned to feel for Rukia-sexual need, deepening empathy, a healthy dose of respect-and forced himself to leave Nanao's message on her door and get on with fixing the TV. But as he tacked the note on the bulletin board with one tap of his fist, he was startled by the sound of a small voice calling from inside her room, "What is it?"

At least, that's what he thought the voice said. Rukia must have thought he was knocking. But how could she be home? Ichigo had been home for twenty-four hours and hadn't seen hide nor hair of her!

"Captain?" he called out cautiously. "Are you in there?"

She muttered something unintelligible, so he tryed again.

"Captain, you just got a call from Nanao. Marechiyo Omaeda has been injured. He-"

He heard her bare feet hit the floor before he could finish. "Injured? Is he alive?" she cried out, rushing to the door.

The panic in her voice shamed Ichigo. If Rukia had been anybody else on the force, he would have been careful to word the message to avoid causing a moment's fear that another cop might have been shot. It simply hadn't occurred to him that Rukia would worry so intensely, especially about a man she'd publicly shredded. He'd misjudged her again.

"Captain, he's fine. He just fell off a ladder. I'm sorry if I..."

She pulled open the door, and Ichigo was too startled by her appearance to continue. Rukia didn't look like the severe, orderly police captain he knew. She was wearing a ruffled blue-plaid flannel nightgown that almost touched the floor, one that made her look like a little girl instead of a superior officer. More amazing was her raven-black hair, wavy and flowing, wildly askew. Her lips were colorless and her cheeks were flushed. Her heavy eyelids made her look almost comatose. It took no doctor to diagnose that she was very ill.

For just a moment Ichigo saw a glimmer of relief pass over her fragile features. "Not shot? Not dead?" she whispered, dizzily leaning against the open door.

"No, Captain." He was shaken by the depth of concern that gripped him. Rukia was certainly in worse shape than Omaeda, yet at the first hint that one of her officers was injured, she'd leaped from her sickbed in alarm. "He won't be able to work for a while, but-"

After the first word or two, Rukia stopped listening. She turned around and started stumbling back toward the bed.

She didn't make it. Her legs seemed to crumple beneath her, and she pitched headlong to the floor.

"Rukia! For god's sake!" Ichigo called, too stunned to remember the rigid rules of conduct she'd laid out for him. He rushed into the room and knelt beside her, feeling her neck for a pulse. He got one, strong and steady, but he also could feel the raging heat of a fever. He wasn't a doctor, but he'd felt enough neck pulses to know that Rukia's glands were badly swollen. Worse yet, she'd passed out cold.

Ichigo didn't want to leave her there on the rug, but he didn't want to move her, either, until she came around. If all that was wrong with her was lightheadedness from getting out of bed too fast when she was ill, she'd come to in a minute. He told himself that she'd be fine, but the claw of worry in his chest made him fear otherwise.

"Rukia!" he said urgently. "Rukia, come back to me. Just flutter your eyelashes, sweetheart. Come on."

He took a deep breath as she groaned and rolled toward him. Instinctively he cradled her head in his arms.

"Rukia, you just passed out. You're in your room. I think you're sick as a dog and shouldn't have rushed out of bed." His stomach tightened as he waited for her to answer. Say something, anything, he silently begged her. Let me know you're all right! "Is there anything else wrong? Do you hurt anywhere?"

She murmured something Ichigo couldn't make out, so he lowered his ear to her lips. "Tell me again. Do I need to take you to the hospital? Are you in pain? Are you sick?"

"Strip," she mumbled.

The word took him by surprise. He blinked, thrusting away the sudden vision of wild-haired Rukia without this heavy nightgown. She was burning up with fever, yes, but-

"Strep throat. Got it from Orihime."

Ichigo steadied himself. Strep throat. He could cope with that. No clothes off. Deep breath. Nothing life-threatening. Nothing a few days in bed and a call to Unohana couldn't fix. So why did he still feel so odd, so upset, so protective? And so damn guilty because he'd thought she was lying to him last night?

"Rukia, listen to me," he said softly, ashamed of the tenderness in his voice. "I want you to put your arms around my neck. I'm going to pick you up and put you back in bed."

"Neck," she murmured. "Don't make me move!"

"Come on, honey. I can't just leave you here on the floor."

He squatted, to protect his back, then gathered her close. He was unsurprised to learn that she was lighter than a feather when he stood up with her in his arms. She didn't feel like a hard-nosed Captain while she lay limply against him looking so weak and fragile.

Ichigo laid her on the bed, carefully stretching out her exsquisitely shaped legs-so smooth and silky!-before tugging her nightgown into place. Gingerly he started to pull the blankets up.

"No," she protested. "So hot!"

He stopped, once more feeling powerless.

"Water. Wanted water since last night. Should have got it before I went to bed."

Ichigo could not account for the terrible pang that shook him then. For twenty-four hours this woman had lain here, hot and hurting, unable to call out for him! Unable to get past their differences to reach out to a stranger... or a friend. He was angry with himself for failing to realize that she was in trouble, and he was angry with Rukia for not trusting him. Had she figured on lying here feebly until this disease ran its course? She needed more than water. She needed medication. She needed nursing. She needed to know that somebody cared whether she was alive or dead!

"I'm going to get you some water, Rukia, and a wet washcloth. Then I'm going to call a doctor."

"Can't go see a doctor!" she whimpered. "Can't drive. Can't stand up." Can't trust Ichigo Kurosaki enough to ask him for help, he could have finished for her.

"I can get one to come here, Rukia. I've got one who's an old friend." Ichigo hurried from the room, dashed into his room to grab an empty soda can, then rinsed it in the bathroom. When he came back with water and a washcloth, Rukia hadn't moved a millimeter.

As he sat down on the mattress beside her, she whispered, "Don't leave me, Ichigo!" so softly that he had to strain to hear. "I feel so weak! So helpless! I hate feeling this way!" Her voice cracked tearfully. "Nobody to call. Nobody to care! Nobody to turn to if I get worse and need help."

Ichigo didn't tell her that she was already in need of help and too sick to know it. He couldn't believe how deeply her vulnerability touched him; he couldn't believe how much it made him ache! Last night he'd had some half-formed fantasy about Rukia laying in this very bed, naked and-he could admit it-moaning for him. Now all he wanted was to know that she was well.

"I won't leave you, Rukia!" he promised, embarrased by the urgency of his tone. "I'll be right here as long as you need me and I'll sleep with the doors open between us tonight."

With infinite patience, Ichigo cradled her neck and shoulders, lifting her up with one strong arm while he trickled the water on to her parched lips. Rukia opened her mouth and licked it with her tongue. During the slow, painful process, he saw that her face was awash with silent tears, tears he could have sworn Captain Curvaceous did not know how to shed. Even when he laid her back down and cooled her face and hands with the dripping washcloth, the tears didn't stop.

"Sweetie, don't cry," he whispered. "I can't bear to see you cry!"

But Rukia must of misunderstood his aching plea. As Ichigo pulled her tenderly against his solid chest, she put her arms around him and started crying harder.

AN

I know what most of you are going to say, they were OOC. But it was so sweet! God I love fluff! I wish the real Ichigo was that sweet. Okay, I'll let you guys get on with your lives but please drop a review before you go.


	6. Chapter 6

AN

Happy Fourth of July everyone! Nice to see that most of you guys liked the last Chapter as much as I did. Anyway, I've started a oneshot collection called Moments In Time so check it out please. Be warned though, the writing style is a bit more light and free compared to this story.

Disclaimer-The only thing I own is my created character.

Chapter Six

On Sunday afternoon, Yoruichi came home from her weekend long trip to some genuine surprises. Ichigo was watching football, as usual, but not at Toshiro's and not downstairs in the living room. She found him slouched over the foot of Rukia's bed, watching an old black-and-white set he'd repaired and installed in her room. Rukia herself was under the covers, looking pale but grateful for the company.

Ichigo seemed quite relaxed, but Rukia was quick to explain the saga of her illness and Ichigo's role as her nurse in great detail... far more detail than the situation merited. Yoruichi didn't care what had happened, or even where it might lead. What mattered was that her nephew was no longer wearing that tense frown and dreading coming home. She was sorry Rukia was sick, but she had a hunch that the outcome had made her suffering worthwhile.

By Thursday, when Kisuke brought home a freshly cut Christmas tree, Rukia was back at work. She came home late that evening just as Yoruichi started stringing lights on the tree.

"Rukia! I'm sorry you missed dinner, dear, but I'm glad you got here in time to help us decorate the tree. We have so many ornaments we can't use them all, so we just put up whatever is special to whoever's living here each year. Each lodger adds his or her own favorites. If you want to unpack your ornaments, we can-"

"I don't... I don't have any ornaments, Yoruichi. You just... go ahead."

Yoruichi stood up and stared at the girl. She noticed that Ichigo, who'd been helping rather cheerfully, was watching her also. A curious sadness stole over his face.

"No ornaments?" Yoruichi protested. "Are they still packed somewhere with your other things? Does your family-"

"No." Rukia licked her lower lip. "I don't have time for Christmas. It's nice that you... do what you do. But I don't generally put up a tree or... whatever."

"Everybody should have time for Christmas," Yoruichi insisted, deeply concerned. "Now go eat your dinner, Rukia, then come back here. We all sing carols in the evening and-"

"Aunt Yoruichi, I need to go over some things with Rukia tonight," Ichigo interrupted, moving over to stand by Rukia in an almost protective gesture. "Police business. If we finish early, we'll come back downstairs and help you."

He gave her a smile as he followed Rukia to the kitchen, so Yoruichi pretended his excuse was genuine. But it was obvious that Ichigo was covering for Rukia, protecting her from-from what? Yoruichi's determination to help make the girl happy? She worked too hard. She never played. Imagine ignoring Christmas!

At least she wasn't ignoring Ichigo anymore. Yoruichi didn't know how Rukia treated him at the station, but it seemed to her that they were starting to spend a lot of time together at home. And now the tension that zapped between them was an entirely different kind.

;;;;;;;

"So what's this vital police business that won't wait till morning?" Rukia asked Ichigo as she put the plate Yoruichi had set aside for her into the microwave. "I thought we'd agreed not to talk shop at home unless it was absolutely necessary?"

It was one of the many agreements, tacit and explicit, that they'd come to during the strangely intimate days of Rukia's illness. By the time she'd gotten a grip on herself, it had been entirely too late to go back to calling Ichigo "Lieutenant" and treating him with formal disdain. She'd wept in his arms like a child while he'd cuddled her. She'd confessed that she hadn't told him she was sick because she was afraid he'd take advantage of the situation to try to stage some sort of station-house coup. She'd told him the truth about how her mother, at eighteen, had gotten pregnant but refused to marry her twenty-year-old father, and left him alone to raise their baby. Ichigo had shared the details of his own parents' loss and had told Rukia that he still kept all their furniture in the basement-even their wedding quilt-so he could honor their memory in his own home someday.

Since then he'd done nothing to indicate that he viewed their growing friendship as anything but platonic, but Rukia's instincts told her it wouldn't take much for that to change. She was sorely tempted by this big, gentle man, and her instincts told her that he wanted her. Ichigo risked nothing by becoming involved with Rukia except getting ribbed by the guys, but Rukia's career would be destroyed if they ever forgot the rules that bound them. She knew she'd have to do all the work to maintain the status quo.

It wasn't easy to remember why keeping Ichigo at a distance was vital to her self-respect when he was sitting across from her, straddling a chair, grinning his most adorable dimpled grin. It wasn't easy to remember that she couldn't possibly stay tough enough to rule a bunch of chauvinistic men if she got soft and mushy over this one.

"Rukia, we have an important situation coming up that requires some serious undercover work," Ichigo informed her with a straight face once she started eating. "There's a party out at the Kunas' house on the twenty-third. It's the scene of the crime and all the living principals will be there. We're bound to dig up some evidence relating to the death of Meiko Kuna."

He sounded so enthusiastic that Rukia had to smile, but inside, she felt a little shaky. The night Ichigo had asked her to join him at Isane's for a bite to eat, she'd passed it off as casual camaraderie. This was a transparent invitation for a date.

Stalwartly she told him, "Ichigo, I usually work on evenings close to Christmas in place of some married man who has a family. Besides, I'm really not a party person."

"Oh? So how is it that we met at a party on your very first night in town?"

Rukia couldn't meet his eyes. She'd collected enough data to convince herself that he wasn't involved in a cover-up of the investigation of Meiko Kuna's death, but until she got the green light from Commander Zaraki, she couldn't share her secret assignment with Ichigo. The fact that she longed so much to violate her orders and tell him the truth-so that nothing stood between them-was one of the many warning signs that told Rukia she needed to start putting back up some of the barriers her illness had knocked down. No man had ever made her question the wisdom of adhering to the rules before.

"I just thought I should meet some of the townsfolk, Ichigo. To sort of break the ice."

"You nearly broke my face!"

Rukia laughed with him, delighted that what had started as a major fiasco had become a shared joke.

"I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't do it again if we went to another party, Ichigo. Besides, with that rash of break-ins we've had this week, I've been thinking of riding patrol on Friday and Saturday nights. Or else assigning you to the task."

He groaned. "Have a heart, Rukia! Wait until after the party, okay?"

She held her ground. "That depends on how things turn out this weekend." The trouble with the two burglars in the blue van had started while Rukia was sick. Several Karakura stores had been hit; so had the Kunas' house. Ichigo had done a follow-up investigation at all the places involved and had gotten an itemized list of missing items. While most of them were easy to sell-VCR's, stereos, silver-nobody could explain why a beat-up old suitcase had been stolen from the Kunas' garage. The only reason Kensei Muguruma had even noticed it was missing was that he'd been using the decripit thing, long abandoned in the garage, to add some height to his worktable. Ironically, he'd found some of his best tools scattered on the ground following the burglary. While it was posible that all the recent publicity about Meiko's death and Seno's apparent wealth made anything at the Kunas', old or new, appear to have great value, Rukia felt that the matter merited further scrutiny.

"Well the burglars in the van may move on soon, Rukia," Ichigo declared nonchalantly. "They hit Yokohama for two weeks before they moved on to Osaka, and they were only there ten days before they moved on to us."

Rukia blinked. "We've got a previous record on these guys at two other substations? Why didn't you let me know?"

"I gave the information to the guys riding patrol." He stood abruptly and marched over to the refrigerator. "I found out the day you got sick, Rukia, when I had lunch with a guy from Osaka, and I've been more or less running things since then."

"You were filling in for a few days, Ichigo," she reminded him coolly, uncomfortable with his evasive tone. "I'm well now and back at the helm."

His eyes met hers with a hint of anger. "I only meant-"

"I know what you meant. I just don't want you to be so sloppy about something so important when you talk to the public or the other men."

Ichigo grabbed a riceball off her plate and started nibbling on it as he straddled his chair once more. He devoted himself to eating in silence, but Rukia was sure he was using the time to simmer down.

She used the time to assure herself that she'd made the right decision to delegate authority for Karakura's law enforcement to Ichigo for the duration of her illness. Although his style with the men was different from her own, she'd found no fault with the way he'd handled things in her absence, a fact she was going to relay to Commander Zaraki tomorrow when she turned in her report on the delay in the Meiko Kuna investigation.

But that didn't mean she wouldn't need to keep reminding Ichigo that she was still in charge.

After an awkward silence, he returned to the subject of the party. "This Christmas bash has been an annual event since Meiko Kuna first moved to town, Rukia. Anybody who's anybody in Karakura shows up. If you refuse to go, you'll really be on the outside looking in."

Rukia didn't appreciate the fact that he'd deliberately pushed one of her buttons in order to manipulate her into going out with him. Rather stiffly she replied, "Ichigo, as it happens, I haven't received an invitation from the Kunas. I'm not sure it would be appropriate for me to attend."

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Rukia, be sensible. If Mashiro hasn't invited you personally, it's only because you live with us and she knows we'll bring you along. How many times do I have to tell you we're practically family?"

Rukia pushed away her plate and boldly met his eyes. "And how many times do I have to tell you how difficult it is for a woman police Captain to keep the respect of her staff?"

"Rukia, do you doubt that you've earned my respect?" He looked very serious now. "Do you doubt that you're earning the respect of the other officers?"

She pondered the question for some time, struggling to form a safe but honest answer. At last she said, "Ichigo, I think that you and I have come to understand each other. I hope you won't take offense when I tell you that I don't want to go to this party with you because it might undercut my position. Not everyone in Karakura would view it as a pleasant duty for a public official. Some people might see it as a date." Including you and me, she added mutely. That was the real problem, the far larger one that she didn't dare to reveal. Rukia's I-don't-date-subordinates excuse was a legimate one that had always worked for her before. Why risk probing beneath the surface, where her deepest vulnerabilities as a woman lay?

Ichigo's jaw tightened, but he still tried to respond with a clumsy joke as he carried Rukia's plate to the sink to rinse before standing it in the dishwasher. "You know, Rukia, I've had a lot of women turn me down over the years, but I think you're the first one who ever said that being seen in public with a cop would be bad for her business."

"I'm not kidding, Ichigo," Rukia told him gravely.

He stuck the plate in the dish rack, then turned and met her eyes. "Neither am I. I play football with my old teammates in the town square. I've been known to take a dispatcher to the movies. Every now and then I take my grandmother to church. None of those people seem to think that associating with me has hurt their reputation."

"None of those people find herself depicted in lewd cartoons in the station-house locker room," Rukia retorted. "None of them hears her staff refer to her as Captain Curvaceous when they think she's out of earshot. And none of those people has Karakura cops taking bets on which one of them will be the first to take her to bed." She stood up and faced him squarely. "I understand you're the odds-on favorite to win."

Ichigo flushed. The red started at his neck and quickly flooded his whole face. Rukia didn't think she'd ever seen a man more embarrassed. She hadn't deliberately sought to humiliate him, but she was glad that she felt back in control.

Only now, from her newfound security, could she afford to admit to herself how often she teetered on the edge where Ichigo was concerned. She was used to dealing with fleeting desire for an unsuitable fellow; she simply turned away. But she couldn't turn away from Ichigo, even though she knew that he posed an increasingly dangerous threat to her career. The mere thought of such a drastic rearrangement of her priorities was frightening. It was a damn good thing that Captain Kuchiki was back in control.

"Rukia, if you think that's why I asked you to this party-"

"If I did, I wouldn't be wasting my breath explaining this to you." Despite her quick denial, Rukia realized she did have a niggling doubt about that at the back of her mind. "But surely you can see that making a public appearance that looks like a date might be misinterpretted by police officers who still find it easier to view me as a sex object more than a commanding officer."

Ichigo leaned back against the tile counter, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "Rukia, I want you to know that I had nothing to do with that office pool," he vowed. "They started taking bets the first week, when you were still being such a hardnose. That's when all the cartoons were drawn, too. As to the nickname-"

"For which I have you to thank..."

He winced. "It came to me on the spur of the moment when you and I were still at war. My face was still bleeding and my spine was black and blue!"

Rukia hated to think about the way she'd injured him that first night. She was happy the cuts on his face had finally healed.

"When you think about it, Rukia, that nickname is a compliment."

"Considering the spirit in which it's used, I can't say I'm particuilarly flattered," she replied. Rukia knew she should sound more angry and indignant, but tonight she was having difficulty acting stern with him. "A complimentary nickname conveys respect, even in an offbeat way. I once knew a cop called toothless because he'd knocked out five teeth in one blow from the mouth of a man twice his size, one who attacked him during an arrest. I know another called roadrunner because he'd managed to rescue a little girl from the path of a speeding truck and safely get back to the sidewalk in record time. And there's another guy-" Rukia gave him a ghost of a grin "-they call Stonewall. I've been told it's because he was solid as a stone wall during a football game, but I think maybe it's because he's the kind of man you can always depend on and will stand solid as a rock in any situation."

Ichigo's eyes flashed. Rukia knew she'd surprised him, and she wasn't sure why she'd risked giving him such praise. Maybe it was to make up for all the wear and tear on his pride during her first weeks in town. Maybe it was because she was going to turn down his offer to take her to the party and she'd already embarrassed him once tonight. Maybe it was because it was so damned hard to be with him day after day without ever admitting how honored she felt that he'd chosen to be her friend.

"I like you, Ichigo," she guardedly confessed. "I'm glad that we get along. But I can't allow myself to be seen in public with you in a potentially compromising situation."

"Rukia, you're a good-looking single woman. People could imagine you're in a compromising situation anytime you're with a man! Are you going to let the mere possibility of gossip ruin your social life?"

She sidestepped his question. "On duty, I'm a police Captain, Ichigo. Not a man, not a woman, just the head cop."

"You can't live your whole life on duty, Rukia!"

"I'll live it however I please!"

He took a step toward her then, filling the small kitchen with his immense size and strength. There was nothing platonic about Rukia's response to his proximity.

"Perhaps it's slipped your mind that you're not the only person on this planet, Rukia. You're not the only one involved here!" He took his hands out of his pockets and stepped closer yet. "I could have asked anybody to go to the party with me. I asked you because I thought it would be fun."

Rukia tried to face him squarely, wishing he wouldn't stand so close. She smelled a faint hint of after-shave; she could feel that dangerous essence of pure man.

"I think it'd be fun, too, Ichigo! It's not-"

"I love being a cop, Rukia, but there are moments now and then when I take off my gun and badge." He took another step closer. Only a few inches separated their bodies now. "In or out of uniform, I'm still a person, Rukia! I'm a man."

Rukia swallowed hard and dropped her gaze to the linoleum. "Ichigo," she admitted unsteadily, "believe me, I know you're a man."

For a moment the room grew deathly silent. She hadn't meant to put it that way; she'd only meant to accept and acknowledge his emotions. But Rukia knew that he'd taken her words as a confession of womanly feelings for him... feelings she didn't dare possess.

She also knew she was standing on the edge of a precipice. She battled a sudden wave of vertigo. Ever since Ichigo had picked her up off the floor and she'd entrusted him with her tears, she'd realized that it wouldn't take much for him to seize control of her heart.

Fiercely she reminded herself that her career would collapse if that ever happened.

"Ichigo, what I mean is-"

"I know exactly what you mean, bunnyhead." His private nickname for her sounded as sweet as honey on his tongue.

Helplessly Rukia's eyes flitted up to meet his. She struggled to keep her distance, but Ichigo moved closer still. In what might have been a platonic spirit, he took her hand, kneading it as he promised, "Nobody thinks of this party as a dating situation, anyway. It's like going to a church potluck or spending Saturday afternoon ice skating on the lake. A bunch of us always drive over together-Aunt Yoruichi, Uncle Kisuke, Rangiku... whoever else is living here. You'll fit right in."

Rukia couldn't argue with this fresh piece of logic, but she wasn't sure whether that was because it made sense or whether it was just something she very much wanted to hear. Anyway, how was she supposed to think clearly when he was toying with her hand?

What a thrill it would be to spend a whole evening with Ichigo, looking like a beautiful woman instead of a soldier! What a thrill it would be to spend a whole night dancing with him! Surely she'd be safe going to the party with a group of people from the boarding house. She and Ichigo could mingle freely. They'd never be alone.

"Well... that sheds a different light on the subject, Ichigo," she told him, wavering. "I'll give it some thought."

Both dimples deepened as his smile widened. "You do that, Rukia! I think a dignified public appearance could only help your public image. Your reputation won't be the least bit endangered."

As Rukia watched his victorious eyes devour her like a cougar stalking prey, she knew she couldn't say the same for her heart.

;;;;;;;;;;;

It was just about seven when Ichigo caught up with his grandmother at the retirement home where she lived at with seventy or eighty other oldsters. Yomi Shihoin was just finishing her dessert in the dining room as Ichigo strolled through the door.

"Why, Ichigo! What a delightful surprise," his grandmother greeted him cheerfully. "You don't get over here very much anymore."

He kissed her on the cheek and accepted her loving rebuke. It had been a week, ten days tops, since he'd last dropped by. When things weren't busy at the station, he sometimes visited her every day or two.

"Sorry, Grandma. We've got a new Captain at the station house and I've been showing her the ropes."

"She needs a lot of attention," said Shunsui, who'd recently been involved in some lively dinner conversations at the boarding house. It had probably been hell for Rukia with all the teasings they had endured from Rangiku and Shunsui himself about Rukia's sickness and what had happened. Shunsui was currently here visiting a friend. He gave Ichigo a man-to-man wink as he teased, "If cops had looked like that when I was a kid, I might have gone into law enforcement myself!"

It was the sort of comment that any halfway normal man might make after a glimpse of Rukia's delicate beauty, but for some reason Shunsui's observation made Ichigo uneasy. Tonight she'd made him see that the common male vision of her-as a knockout, not as a capable human being-was what made her job so difficult. He'd never given much thought to the men's dry locker humor before, but now he saw that their behavior stripped Rukia of her dignity, and he made a mental note to speak to them about it.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have named her Captain Curvaceous. Rukia definitely deserved a more respectable nickname. But it couldn't be helped. After all, whether she knew it or not, her curves were one of her most atractive features considering the fact that her chest wasn't very big. But that was okay with him.

Mentally shaking himself and turning back to address Shunsui he said, "Believe it or not, she's a damn good cop. A stickler for details, true, but she takes care of business. The men are learning to respect her." Before Shunsui could respond he decided to change the subject. "Anyway, I've got a special problem that needs your magic hands, Grandma," he said enthusiastically.

Yomi beamed dramatically. "Oh, stop! Now what did you want to see me about, dear?" asked Yomi after the room had cleared out. "Somehow I have the feeling this isn't just a casual visit."

Ichigo pulled up a chair, smoothing his wild orange locks back into place. He loved his hometown, but sometimes he got tired of having the old folks treat him like a child. "Grandma, I need you to make a Christmas tree ornament."

"A what?"

He flushed. "Something cute. Sweet. Feminine. But right for a-"

"Police officer?" his grandmother said shrewdly.

His eyes met hers, imploring her to secrecy. "Aunt Yoruichi invited her to help us decorate our tree with her own ornaments-you know how she encourages all of the boarders to be part of the family like that-and Rukia said she didn't have a single one. Not even hidden away." He wanted his grandmother to get the picture, but he wasn't about to share anything Rukia had told him in confidence. His Aunt was likely to report her own conversation with Rukia, anyway.

"Rukia, you say? Not that vile, evil Captain Curvaceous I heard about the first day?"

Ichigo took a deep breath. Did the whole damn town know what he'd once called her? "At work it's Captain Kuchiki, Grandma. And this ornament is strictly on the qt."

His grandmother patted his hand. "Why, Ichigo, darling, why should a gift from Yoruichi Urahara to a boarder be a secret? It was kind of you to deliver your Aunt's message to me."

He grinned as he recognized her clever subterfuge, then leaned forward to once again kiss her cheek. His grandmother's eyes were still twinkling when he left her, buttoning up his jacket against the cold, clear night.

On the way out, Ichigo was surprised to run into Lisa. She was carrying a tinfoil-covered tray that held something that smelled delicious. "Hi, Lisa. How's it going?" he greeted her warmly. "What brings you out here tonight?"

"Christmas cookies, Ichigo," said Lisa, who was often busy with civic affairs or charity work. "I make some for this place every year."

"Well, it's nice to know that I have something to look forward to when I'm old or otherwise incapacitated."

Lisa pulled back a piece of tinfoil. "You can have one now, Ichigo, and I won't tell."

With a grin he snatched a cookie shaped like a Christmas tree. "You're too good to me, Lisa."

She chuckled and held her tray out towards him. "Have a few more."

He sighed happily, then took two.

"Better not tell your boss, Ichigo. She might accuse you of accepting a bribe."

Ichigo inwardly stiffened. Did people have to talk about Rukia wherever he went? No wonder she was paranoid!

Loyally he said to Lisa, "Captain Kuchiki is very serious about her work. I think she'll do just fine here."

Lisa didn't look appeased. "I hope so, Ichigo, but all the same I wish she hadn't come along when you broke the news of Aunt Meiko's death to Uncle Seno. It was hard enough to cope with."

He felt the blaze of tension again-loyalty to the hometown, loyalty to Rukia. He'd seen an old TV show once where a whole town had conspired together against an outsider, and he had a feeling Karakura was doing it now. But Rukia wasn't the enemy. She was only trying to find out the truth about Meiko Kuna's death. It shouldn't bother people unless they had something to hide.

And he didn't like how Lisa was judging Rukia when she barely knew anything about her. It seemed a lot of people were doing that lately. During her time at the Kunas house, Rukia had been sympathetic and understanding and had not done one thing out of line. So what was eating Lisa?

Stiffly he said, "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way. See you later." He quickly strode away before his anger could take hold. But after a few paces, his mood lightened. After all, he'd just had some delicious cookies, his grandmother had agreed to help him without giving him too much grief, and best of all, he'd more or less gotten Rukia to agree to attend the party with him. For now, that was all he could ask for.

AN

Yay, it's done! Okay, so if I haven't made this clear, Kenpachi gave Rukia a secret assignment to investigate Ichigo and all the other cops in case they were covering up evidence involving the Meiko case. But Ichigo's clear now. Anyway, I just want to say sorry for slacking on this you guys, and I promise to get back on track. Well, thanks for reading and please review before you go.


	7. Chapter 7

AN

Happy Weekend everyone! I just want to start out here by giving a big fat shout-out to Teshichan, Irishmate, and LyfeIzmymuzik. You guys really rock! Thanks so much for your awesome reviews! Thanks to all of you! Anyway, you fluff and drama lovers are going to adore this Chap. I know I do! Oh and by the way, the party will take place in the next Chapter.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Seven

Rukia came home around seven on Monday night, dragging her feet like lead weights as she picked up her mail, greeted Yoruichi and Kisuke, and headed up the stairs. She'd had a long day and her physical energy wasn't quite back up to par, but she knew that wasn't what was weighing her down. It was a long time since she'd come down with love-a far more virulent dease than strep throat-but not so long that she'd forgotten the symptoms. A curious buoyancy combined with an equally curious tendency to despair. A certain tenderness that made her too sensitive to the joys and pains of life, even when it wasn't so close to Christmas. Quiet surges of joy whenever the man in question came into the room; not-so-quiet surges of need whenever he accidentally touched her.

Rukia hadn't fallen flat on her face yet, but as she flipped through the day's incoming Christmas cards, she had to admit that she was leaning that way as fast as her heart could carry her. Even now, dreading their impending confrontation, she couldn't deny that her pulse was picking up speed as she heard the TV blaring and realized that Ichigo was waiting for her in her room. He'd set up his old black-and-white set for her during her illness and hadn't moved it yet. Several times they'd stayed up late and watched old movies, munching popcorn and giggling like kids. Rukia had loved sharing those times with Ichigo, oblivious to the fact that he'd betrayed her.

Now she sorely regretted the trust she'd placed in him. Kaien Shiba's call this afternoon had been a real eye-opener, one that made her see Ichigo's recent friendliness in a whole different light.

In hindsight, Rukia marveled that he'd beguiled her into agreeing to go to that Christmas party with him-it was too late to get out of it now-and she marveled that she'd almost convinced herself that it didn't really count as a date. It was not a mistake she could afford to make again.

"Hi, Ru," Ichigo greeted her cheerfully as she marched into the room. Shoeless, he was lying on her bed-not slouched over the end, but propped up with a pair of pillows on top of her bunny comforter as though he belonged there. He wore what he usually did at home-a pair of jeans, a sweat-shirt and a sexy five o'clock shadow. Rukia knew his habits so well by now that she could tell just by looking at his face how many hours had passed since he'd last shaved.

She stared at him for a long, sad moment before she coolly declared, "I need to talk to you before you leave my room."

Ichigo sat up at once. "Trouble downtown?"

She did not try to smile. "You might say that."

"You look a little peaked, Ru. Why don't you sit down?"

"I would be happy to if you'd be so kind as to get off my bed."

Ichigo's lips tightened at her unsubtle rebuke, but he didn't speak as he rose and turned off the set. Slowly he walked to the bathroom door-the route he always took to his room-and waited for her to continue, his posture a fair imitation of parade rest.

Rukia took the spot he'd vacated on her bed-it was still warm with the feel of him-but she sat tensely on the edge of the mattress. "I got a call from Kaien Shiba today," she announced bluntly.

"Kaien Shiba?" To Rukia's surprise, Ichigo didn't look guilty or ashamed. He sounded tense-and surely not!-almost jealous. "This is... an old friend?" The word friend was laced with innuendo.

"My dearest friend," Rukia clarified. "My former partner. The one whose life I once saved." Instinctively she rubbed the scar on her left shoulder that was proof of her courage under fire. "I'm surprised the name doesn't ring a bell with you, Ichigo. Surely you've encountered it a dozen times during your background check of Rukia Kuchiki."

That was when the color drained from his face. His gaze dropped to the floor. For a long, tense moment he said nothing. Any hope she might have had that Kaien's information had been inaccurate died right then and there.

"I don't suppose it ever occurred to you that I might have a single loyal friend in the whole Seireitei sub station, did it, Ichigo? Imagine a cop being loyal to me instead of you!" Her anger was starting to push aside the pain. "Surprise, Lieutenant Kurosaki! Did you really think word wouldn't get back to me?"

At last Ichigo's eyes met Rukia's. He looked embarrassed but not ashamed. "I took a chance, Rukia. I was not as discret as possible, but it's inevitable in this sort of background check that sooner or later the subject gets wind of it. If you'd just let me explain-"

"Explain? Why, Lieutenant, I may be slow but I'm not stupid! You never made up any excuses about the fact that you wanted my job. First you tried to intimidate me, and when that didn't work you bamboozled me with your good looks and your pseudokindness. You took care of me when I was sick. You pretended to be my friend!" Rukia stood up and took a grim step in his direction. "What a pity you couldn't find any dirt to help you overthrow me while I was off balance. Are you planning to manufacture some?"

"Dammit, Rukia, if I'd wanted to overthrow you, I didn't need to make anything up!" His square jaw jutted out as he swore his innocence. "The men were ready to hang you in effigy the first week you got here, but I quelled every hint of revolt. Ask any one of them! Recently I've been more friendly-" now those amber eyes begged her to believe him "-because I thought we truly had become friends."

Rukia refused to be seduced by his fake sincerity. "I have no need for friends who stab me in the back, Lieutenant."

"I didn't stab you in the back, Rukia! I just tried to gather some background information! I wanted to know what kind of woman we were dealing with. I needed to know if you were someone we could trust!"

"Well, now you know!" She was yelling almost hysterically now and she couldn't stop it. "You're dealing with a woman who holds her own under fire! You're dealing with a woman who rarely makes the same mistake twice! You're dealing with a woman who never forgets when she's been crossed!"

"I'm dealing with a woman who's letting her own pride blind her from the truth!" he growled. "If you ever cool off long enough to listen to the real reason I had you checked out, Rukia, I'll be more than happy to tell you! In the meantime, I'm going downstairs to catch the rest of the game."

"Lieutenant!" she called out before he could march through the bathroom door. "Don't you want to know the results of my secret investigation?" As he stopped, turned around and faced her gravely, she thrust the knife home. "Don't you want to know what I found out about you?"

Ichigo had looked grim before, but he looked positively devastated now. Rukia had hoped to take him by surprise, but suddenly her victory seemed small and petty. He'd said there was a reason he'd betrayed her, implied it was one she could forgive. In spite of everything, Rukia found herself longing to believe him.

"I have no other secrets, Rukia," Ichigo said wearily, looking as depressed as she felt. He ran a hand through his wild orange hair. "I do have some curiosity, though, as to why you were paranoid enough to feel a background check on me was necessary."

Rukia hated the feeling of distance between them, but she didn't dare move any closer. "I'm not the one who ordered the investigation on you, Ichigo," she told him truthfully, holding her ground in the center of the room. "Commander Zaraki ordered me to gather information pertinent to a possible police coverup."

He stared at her blankly. "A coverup of what?"

"Of the truth about the body found in the lake."

Ichigo's mouth fell open. He looked shellshocked.

"Zaraki felt that Ukitake was dragging his feet," Rukia explained a bit more gently, "And you were his right-hand man. You'd almost become his son-in-law. Zaraki hoped you were just following orders without knowing what might be at stake, but he didn't dare put you at the helm if there was any chance you might willingly be conspiring to sidestep your official duties."

Ichigo visibly reeled. "Oh, my, god!"

"He couldn't pick anybody else who was eligible because they were all men with some connection to Karakura cops or citizens. I, on the other hand, have had to do battle everywhere I've been assigned." Of course, Rukia thought back grimly, that hadn't stopped Zaraki from telling her rather harshly before she'd left for her new job that if she "bitched" about being mistreated he'd remove her in the blink of an eye. Sighing inwardly she said to him with a bit of bitterness in her voice, "Over the years you've collected friends while I've collected enemies."

Ichigo was leaning against the doorway now, as if for support. "I thought you got the job because you were kissing up to somebody at the top," he raggedly confessed. "In the beginning, I mean. Once I got to know you, I knew there had to be some other reason, but I couldn't figure out what it could be."

"Join the club, Lieutenant," Rukia retorted, a hint of bitterness still present in her tone. "I've been accused of sleeping with somebody each and every time I've been promoted! The truth of the matter is that I've never so much as kissed another officer!"

"Rukia, I know you'd never-"

"You're right that I wouldn't have been chosen over Karakura's native son under normal circumstances," she plowed on, "But I worked damn hard for my Captaincy and I'm not stepping aside for you now that I've got it, Ichigo! Make no mistake about that."

For a moment Ichigo seemed to be having trouble breathing. His pain and shock were difficult for Rukia to bear.

"I can't believe it." His tone was numb. "I lost my promotion because Jushiro is getting old and soft?"

"I don't think Jushiro's age had anything to do with it. He goes back a long way with Seno Kuna, and I think he dragged his feet a bit. Not enough to be convicted of obstructing justice, just enough to keep Seno's old scars from being paraded around in the light of day."

Ichigo shook his head. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he pleaded, "Don't muddy Jushiro's name over this, Rukia! I beg you! All he's guilty of is having different priorities than yours. If he'd ever found any evidence to implicate Seno in his wife's death, I swear to you, he would have brought him in."

"I don't know that for sure, Ichigo. Neither do you. But I can't prove that he tampered with any evidence, and frankly, I think he just hoped that if he kept his people busy with other tasks, the pressure to identify a long-dead body would eventually fade. I put all my facts and suspicions in my report. The rest is up to Commander Zaraki." Belatedly it struck Rukia that Ichigo seemed a lot more concerned about his former chief than about his own fate. "Don't you want to know what I said about you?"

He straightened then, and tensely met her eye to eye. "I know what you said about me, Rukia. If you hadn't cleared me to your satisfaction, you wouldn't be divulging all of this. You'd be finding ways to torpedo our friendship. You'd be pushing me away."

"I am pushing you away!" she snapped. "You betrayed me, Ichigo! You pretended to be my friend! If you think-"

Suddenly his virile face was an inch away from hers. One large male hand was gripping her arm. It was a warm and compelling hand, strong and forgiving. The male body that pressed in close simmered with anger and regret... and made Rukia simmer with feelings she knew she had to forget. Why, out of all the men in the world, did she have to respond so potently to this one? Why did he wound her with his fury and gentle her with his pain? Why did she make resolution after resolution where he was concerned, only to find herself magnetized by his touch again?

Suddenly Rukia couldn't remember why she was mad at Ichigo. She couldn't even remember why she had to stay away from him. "I never faked my feelings for you, Ru," he vowed in a voice that was dark and low. "When I hated you, I let you know it. When I started to like you, I let you know that, too. I had my reasons for checking you out-honorable reasons-and if I had it to do over, I'd do it all again. Hate me if you want, but I'm telling you the truth." His grip tightened, kneading Rukia's skin in a way that called all of her female senses to full alert. "With Ichigo Kurosaki, what you see is what you get."

On that note he dropped her arm and stomped out through the bathroom. Rukia listened tensely for him to pound down the stairs to catch the rest of the football game, but she didn't hear him leave his room. She wondered if he was waiting for her to rush through the bathroom doors and apologize. She wondered if it might be the right thing to do.

Rukia glanced down at her uniform and remembered vaguely that nothing meant more to her than being a cop. She turned back to her father's picture by the bed and waited for his memory to tell her she'd made her old man proud. But tonight Ichigo's accusations were so loud that they drowned out her father's compliments. It was hard to recall the lessons he'd taught her when Ichigo was in the room.

For the past week or so they'd practically lived like roommates sharing an apartment, leaving their adjoining doors open as they passed back and forth freely during the course of the day. With Ichigo on Rukia's bed watching television, the Uraharas' boardinghouse had felt like home.

Now it was just a place to pass the night. A lonely rented room.

Rukia was trying to deal with her latest broken dream when she spotted the small red-and-green box on top of the TV. Taped to the bottom of it was a tag in the shape of a snowman that said, "Merry Christmas from Ichigo to Bunnyhead-Open NOW!"

Sick with the memory of how they'd parted, Rukia remembered his last words- With Ichigo Kurosaki, what you see is what you get. Her Captain's mind was still suspicious, but her woman's heart knew he was telling the truth. The real Ichigo Kurosaki had brought her something for Christmas. The real Ichigo Kurosaki had lovingly nursed her when she was sick. The real Ichigo Kurosaki had a legitimate reason for starting an inquiry on her background.

Quickly she tore open the package, surprised at what she found inside. It was a handmade ornament for the Christmas tree, exquisitely fashioned out of fabric scraps and felt. The figure was a cute little girl with midlength raven-black hair and a black uniform complete with a holly-shaped badge that said Kuchiki. Lovingly shaped wings sprouted from her back and a tiny hanger for the tree hung from her miniature halo.

It was the first Christmas present Rukia had received this year... the first ornament she'd owned since her father's death. She knew it wasn't a last-minute gift or a deliberate bribe. Ichigo had been looking straight into her heart when he'd asked somebody to make this angel cop.

A moment later Rukia found herself darting through the two bathroom doors into Ichigo's room, not bothering to knock. When she found him staring glumly out the window, she flew across the room, threw both arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

Her kiss was so quick, so spontaneous, Rukia didn't just surprise Ichigo, she surprised herself. When his arms came around her, she tried to step back, but it was too late to escape from his powerful embrace. After keeping herself so sternly at a distance from this man who always aroused her most sensual feelings, she realized that she'd inadvertently placed herself in danger.

"Thank you, Ichigo," Rukia whispered, hoping he'd believe her apologetic display of affection was purely platonic. "She's adorable!"

For a moment Ichigo simply stared at Rukia. Then one of his hands slipped up to cradle her head. "So are you," he answered, his voice still low but not at all angry now. "I wanted you to have some new memories of Christmas, Rukia. That's one of the reasons I invited you to the party."

But that's not the only one, the voice of prudence warned Rukia. She knew she had to break away from him right now. Right now, their embrace was still platonic, but they were both leaning in another direction and the tiniest breeze of attraction would be enough to blow them over. Rukia struggled to escape-all she had to do was step away-but her whole body seemed to be trapped in Ichigo's undertow.

His compelling eyes were commanding her to kiss him, and not on the cheek this time. Rukia tried to remember why she could not take the risk, but no reasons came to mind. It felt so natural, so beautifully right to melt into his arms at this moment. After the past few dark hours, she suddenly felt secure and happy and deliriously warm. She could not imagine a more natural and wonderful sensation than the feel of Ichigo's lips against hers. She could not remember why she believed that later, when she could think again, she would be desperately sorry if she let it happen.

But her safety as an officer often depended on sheer instinct. A cop frequently had to make survival choices in the blink of an eye. If Rukia had walked into a shoot-out, she would have ducked when the bullets started fllying. Instinctively, she tried to duck Ichigo now.

"I'm sorry I had to keep my investigation secret, Ichigo," she blurted out, hoping that such a dark topic would defuse the increasingly erotic mood between them. "I was just doing my job. I was being a good cop."

Undeterred, Ichigo's hands slipped up and down her back in what might have been a platonic massage. But there was nothing platonic about Rukia's response, especially when she imagined those fingers a little lower than the base of her spine. "I know you were, Rukia. I don't hold it against you. If anything, it makes me respect you even more."

Rukia knew she had to get away. What a fool she must be to get herself trapped in this desperate situation. Ichigo was talking like a friend but his hands inflamed her like a lover's. If she didn't escape from him this instant, she knew it would be too late.

"Tell me why you sicced your cronies on me, Ichigo," she challenged him in desperation. "Tell me why you tried to ruin my life!"

"I didn't try to ruin you, Rukia!" To Rukia's relief-and unaccountable sorrow-Ichigo suddenly dropped his hands and turned away.

"If I'd been the only one involved, I would have covered my own back and taken my chances. But I owed it to the other men to be sure of you!" There was no hint of seduction now as he whispered, "Dammit, Ru, don't you see? I owed it to Uryu!"

Reeling from the abrupt mood shift, Rukia told herself that she was glad Ichigo hadn't really betrayed her, glad he clung to such loyalty to his late partner, glad that she'd escaped from his mesmerizing hands.

But her body still quivered with yearning... where he had touched her and where he had not.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Ichigo was glad to find Rukia waiting in the car when he joined his aunt and uncle for a trip to Karakura's frozen lake on Saturday afternoon. Yoruichi had been working on her all week, insisting that she needed some time off, and Ichigo had seconded his aunt's motion. He'd privately told Rukia that he'd think she was still mad at him if she didn't come along, and though he was quite sure she saw through his blatant manipulation, she'd finally agreed to come, anyway.

He really did want some playtime with Rukia. Ahem, funtime, he meant funtime. He missed watching TV with her in the evening or sharing a midnight snack. On the surface they had mended their fences, but ever since the day she'd gotten that call from Kaien Shiba, she'd seemed skittish about having Ichigo in her room.

She hadn't tried to back out of their date to the party, though, even though he was sure she wanted to. Rukia always referred to it as "Attending the Christmas get-together with the Uraharas," and acted as though Ichigo was just tagging along as Yoruichi's nephew. The little angel cop never made it down to the Christmas tree, but he'd noticed that it was hanging from her father's picture in her room.

Ichigo had planned to play hockey with his old gang this afternoon, but after a half hour or so he asked Toshiro to fill in for him as goalie, and he joined Rukia on the other side of the ice. She had warned him she couldn't skate worth beans, and by now he knew she'd been telling the truth. Ice skating seemed to be the one thing Rukia Kuchiki couldn't do.

Ichigo slid toward her effortlessly, bringing himself up short while she wobbled in surprise, then grabbed his arm to steady herself. "Whoa, girl! What would you say to some remedial tutoring?"

She grimaced. "That obvious, huh?"

"Plain as day, bunnyhead. Weren't you ever a kid?"

Apologetically she answered, "Well, I did learn to ride a bike. It was the fastest way to run my father's dinner down to the station house."

Whenever she mentioned her father, there was an ache in Rukia's voice that wounded Ichigo. He knew from personal experience that her memories were getting harder to handle the closer she got to Christmas.

"I bet he was damn proud of you," he said gently.

To his surprise, she blinked rapidly, almost as though she were fighting tears. "Well, he was certainly proud the day I graduated from the police academy. He wasn't around to see much after that."

Ichigo waited for the test. He'd asked questions about her dad before, but she'd never given him many details. Now he sensed she was ready to share more of her past with him.

"His partner was a good man, but it didn't make any difference. They went down together. A pimp on speed."

There had been a time when her terse expression would have fooled Ichigo into thinking that she had no feelings. But he knew better now. That tight mask of control she often wore at work did not come to her naturally. The colder she sounded, the more she was probably hurting.

"I'm sorry, Ru," he said, trying to console her. "I won't pretend to know exactly how you feel, but... I've been there. The hurt doesn't go away, but you sort of learn to live with it in time."

She licked her lips. "You know how you kept everything of your parents? Furniture and Christmas ornaments and everything?"

Ichigo nodded.

"I did just the opposite. I couldn't bear to sit in father's chair or see Christmas ornaments that had hung on his tree. I sold what I could and gave the rest away. Ever since then I've just rented furnished places." She looked almost sheepish. "I've got a healthy savings account, but I don't own a single piece of furniture."

"But you do have a Christmas ornament," he reminded her gently, rejoicing in the fact that his instincts had been keen enough to realize how much she'd needed it. "Maybe it's time to start some new memories, Rukia. Time to come out of mourning."

She nodded, but she didn't look very certain. "Well, I am planning to buy a house once I get settled in better at the station. You were right, you know, when you said I couldn't live my whole life on duty. I think maybe that's what I've been trying to do. It's time I had a place worth coming home to." At last she smiled. "I want a pet bunny and a pot of lillies in every room."

Ichigo grinned. "Hey, you don't have to wait until you buy a house to start making your room a bit more homey." You only have to wait a few more days, he added silently as he started planning some more Christmas surprises for her. "I'm not sure how Aunt Yoruichi would feel about a bunny, but you could at least get a nice plant right away."

Rukia's broadening smile warmed him inside and out. Suddenly Ichigo was acutely aware that she was still clinging to his arm, even though she had long since stabilized her position. He had an odd, gratifying feeling that she was leaning on him for more than physical support.

As he remembered what she'd told him about her mother, Ichigo realized that Rukia's life had always been pretty austere. She'd never lived in a normal family with a loving man and woman who shared babies or anything else. Her father had been everything to her, and her father had been married to the badge. Was it any wonder she'd made the same choice?

Was it any wonder nobody had ever taught her how to skate. How to laugh? How to love?

I'm going to teach her everything and more, a voice within him vowed. With Rukia fighting their growing intimacy, it wasn't going to be easy, but Ichigo was a determined man.

His hopes rose when Rukia pressed closer, ostensibly to get a better grip on his arm. As she brushed against his thigh, he thought about the last time she'd been so close... when she'd kissed his cheek and, for one exquisite moment, had let him hold her in his arms.

Suddenly he felt off center, uneasy, too big for the front of his jeans. This was no time to be aroused! He didn't dare risk embarrassing Rukia publicly. When the time was finally right to let her know just how much he cared for her, he'd be damn certain that she was in the right mood.

"I think it would help if you'd shift your weight from one leg to the other, really glide," he told her quickly, determined to end their back-and-forth before he got into trouble. "Then the motion is smoother, and you can get up some speed."

"Speed?" She laughed, a truly beautiful sound that rang through the crisp, piny air and seemed to add sparkle to the sunlight on the ice. "Ichigo, I can hardly stay upright holding still!"

"Oh, come on! Where's your sense of adventure? Give me your hand and I'll be your rudder until you get the hang of it."

For a moment her face grew quite still, and he waited, expecting her to tell him she couldn't possibly hold his hand in public, even for such a prosaic reason. But when she glanced at the other townsfolk-some doing figures, some whooping it up in the hockey game-she was apparently reassured by what she saw. "If you think you can stand working with such a slow student, Ichigo, God knows I could use the help."

"I won't argue with you there." He took her hand-or rather, his glove found her mitten-as they began to skate in slow, careful stretches. Rukia trudged along clumsily, courageously, making him feel curiously protective of her. He wanted to teach her how to have fun with a family or play with a friend. He wanted to make up for her father's death and her mother's abandonment.

He wanted to sleep in her room tonight. Ichigo nipped that fantasy in the bud, but not soon enough to keep his jeans from getting even tighter.

He put one arm around Rukia as she nestled against his side, wobbling and lurching on her skates. "There must be a trick to this I'm missing," Rukia complained after she'd accidentally nicked his ankle with a sharp blade. "I'm usually not this clumsy! I won some awards for track in school and I was always good in gymnastics!"

"You have to relax, Ru. Just let go."

She rolled her eyes. "If I let go, I'll fall over!"

"I didn't mean letting go of me," Ichigo said with a laugh. "I mean let go of the tension, the need to control. Let me get you rolling here. Just loosen up and put yourself in my hands."

He realized too late, it was the wrong thing to say. He felt tension rocket through her body... a flash of arousal once again echoing around in his own. So far he'd been holding her in a perfectly platonic fashion, but he couldn't seem to conceal the fact that his fantasies were moving along more sensual lines.

Apparently Rukia's thoughts were moving in the same direction. Her eyes met his with an unspoken reprimand as she replied unsteadily, "I'm not so sure this was a good idea, Ichigo. I tend to do better on my own."

While Ichigo mutely cursed himself, Rukia pulled her hand loose and started to skate away from him. Her rough, jerky takeoff barely got her launched before she started to careen, lurching back toward Ichigo for help. At once he reached out to catch her, but he was too late.

Rukia fell toward him at an odd angle that made it hard for him to break her fall. She crashed through his arms, but caught one knee going down, pulling his leg out from under him. A moment later they were both laid out flat on the ice.

As Ichigo slammed onto the frozen pond, inwardly cursing, he recalled the last time Rukia had toppled him on his back with an audience. At least this time she'd gone down, too. And this time, she was on top of him.

Acutely aware of the warmth of her female body-aware of each delicate, womanly curve-he held his breath and tried not to move until she could roll off him. The force of her impact had inflamed his already heightened senses, and her nearness was now loudly reminding him of the warnings he'd ignored before.

While Ichigo did his damnedest to still his throbbing passion, he suddenly felt a frozen female hand touch his throat. Somehow Rukia had pulled off her mitten. She was taking his pulse.

"Ichigo?" she begged him, her voice hoarse and low. She sounded frightened, the way she had when she'd first heard Marechiyo Omaeda was injured. But there was something else in her tone that he knew he hadn't heard before. She said his name almost like a prayer. "Ichigo, tell me you're all right!"

He opened his eyes at once, stunned and touched by her concern. "Rukia, I'm fine," he whispered, so eager to soothe her that he almost forgot the need for caution. "I probably broke my shoulder, and my reputation as an athlete is shot to hell, but other than that-"

He stopped abruptly as he saw the look on Rukia's face. Her beautifully curved mouth was only a few inches away from his own, and her eyes were full of fear that was changing, as he watched, to unmitigated joy.

"Thank god!" she whispered.

Instinctively, unknowingly, Ichigo cradled her face with his good hand. Her skin was soft and smooth. She smelled like soap and sunshine. "I'm tough as a rhino, bunnyhead. It would take a lot more than the world's clumsiest skater to leave me at death's door."

"I'm sorry," she said, smiling openly in relief. She still lay on top of him, her body so close to his that her sweet breath warmed his face and her thighs pressed against his own.

It took all of Ichigo's strength of will not to move erotically against her. He had an eerie feeling that Rukia was fighting some powerful instincts, too.

"You're so incredibly strong, Ichigo. It never occurred to me that I could knock you down."

"You've done it before," he reminded her.

Rukia shook her head, causing a chunk of raven-black hair to spill loose from its lacy band. A few silky strands feathered his face and tugged at his heart. "That was on purpose. This was a mistake."

The moment the words were out, Ichigo realized that falling down wasn't the only mistake Rukia had made. She still hadn't moved. Their bodies were lodged ever so intimately together, and his hand was still caressing her face.

He wanted her. He wanted her with a heat that all but left him speechless, a heat that he could no longer deny. And though Ichigo knew she would die before she admitted it, he was certain that Rukia wanted him, too.

The sight of him "Wounded", even the fear of it, had rocked her to the core. Even now, assured of his well-being, she couldn't seem to hurry to her feet, didn't even seem to realize that he was ready to kiss her as she straddled him atop the ice.

"Bunnyhead?" Ichigo queried softly, unable to hide his own urgency. His fingers splayed across her cheek; his thumb erotically stroked her delicate jaw. When she licked her lower lip and met his eyes with unbanked need, he dipped his fingers deep into her hair and pulled her closer, breathing her name in a wordless moan.

But Ichigo's lips did not find Rukia's. At the last second, she closed her eyes and turned her face away.

While he reeled from the rejection, Ichigo tensed for her rebuke. How could he have forgotten they were surrounded by people, even for a second? Rukia would never forgive him for such a bald faux pas.

But when Rukia tugged his hand away from her hair, there was nothing angry or arrogant about the gesture. She was silent as her small fingers closed around his palm, kneading his skin for a tense, hungry moment. Ichigo could have sworn she was caressing him.

For a long, heart-stopping moment, the strong woman who'd rejected Ichigo's kiss clung to his hand, her legs all but intwined with his. By the time she shakily found her feet, Rukia's silence already told Ichigo everything she could not say.

AN

Just a few things before you go. First off, how funny is it that a person with an ice Zanpakuto apparently can't ice skate? Also, when I picked Rukia's nickname I was thinking of going with Ruki, but Ru sounded better to me. Finally, if anyone's noticed, I've fixed Ichigo's eye color from brown to amber. Being the blind girl that I am, I don't know the difference, but I've been told it's a big deal. So, sorry for that error. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this Chap, and as always, please review.


	8. Chapter 8

AN

I AM SO SORRY YOU GUYS! I NEVER imagined it would take this long for me to upload! I hope you guys are still following this story and again I'm very sorry! Just a refresher, the last chapter ended with them ice skating and the not-kiss and this chapter will feature the long-awaited party. Okay, so before we get started I just want to point out that they might be a little bit OOC, but keep in mind that their older now and it is AU so its not imposible for their characters to mature and change just a little.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Warning-From here on out, it's going to get pretty angsty and cover rather mature subjects. I'll try to change the rating.

Chapter Eight

Never, in the many years Yoruichi had been coming to the Kunas' Christmas parties, had she arrived at one in a car that bristled with so much tension. Rukia looked like a princess; no stranger would ever have guessed she was a cop. Ichigo always looked handsome to Yoruichi, but tonight she had to admit he'd outdone himself. Rangiku, as usual, looked stunning in one of her more revealing dresses.

Wedged thigh to thigh with Rukia in the confines of the back seat, Ichigo couldn't seem to take his eyes off her... and she couldn't seem to look at him. Yoruichi, preoccupied with her own thoughts, was silent. But, of course, Kisuke was his typical quirky self as he drove the group to the Kunas' house. He even joined Rangiku, perched in the back seat on the other side of Rukia, in a few loud bars of "Deck The Halls."

The Kunas' large house was a cheery sight this evening, rising like a beacon from the snowbanks that lined the road. Streams of people were pressing toward it, happily gossiping about Mashiro's last party at the house, and what might have happened to Meiko. Several people openly praised Mashiro's extensive eferts to decorate the house.

The main entrance was bedecked with pine boughs and holly. In the very center of the living room stood a rather tall Christmas tree glittering with lights and decorations. In one corner a live band played Christmas carols and dance tunes. The spacious kitchen was set up with a long table that held many different drinks and snacks. As always, Marechiyo Omaeda was dressed up as Santa, but the red suit seemed a bit loose on him this year.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

From the first instant Rukia had seen Ichigo's face in the car, she knew she'd made a terrible mistake. It was bad enough that she'd let Rangiku do her hair in dramatic curls and sexy waves that billowed half-tamed around her head. Worse yet was her decision to follow Yoruichi's advice to buy this magnificent emerald satin gown, cut low in the back and lower yet in the front, where an enticing glimpse of her modest cleavage drew Ichigo's eyes away from her face. The dress had sleeves just long enough to cover the bullet scar on her left shoulder.

No fabric could have consealed the turmoil in Rukia's heart. She had told herself that dignity forced her to look her best for the evening. The truth was-she had to face it now-she'd wanted to feel radiant and ultra-feminine for Ichigo. She'd wanted to feel beautiful the way a woman feels when she sees her own beauty reflected in the eyes of the man she loves.

Just once. Just tonight. She wanted a harmless fantasy to remember. But the tension on Ichigo's face told Rukia that her fantasy was anything but harmless. Her memory of his hand on her face last Saturday on the ice was all too keen. She could still feel the force of his hard body against her legs. There was no way she could pretend that he had not wanted her. Rukia was grasping at straws when she tried to believe that he didn't know by now how desperately she wanted him.

She'd been assailed by unbearably erotic dreams the night before. Ichigo had slipped into her room wearing nothing but a towel and walked with purpose over to her bed. Then he'd leaned down and captured her lips in a steamy and sizzling kiss, bringing her to full arousal and causing her dream self to flip him onto the floor. Rukia knew she'd have to keep Ichigo at arm's length. And by the look in his eyes, he had no intention of staying at arm's length tonight.

Rukia had barely stepped foot in the house with Ichigo trailing behind her, when Rangiku called out in a loud, teasing voice, "Well, Ichigo, looks like you finally caught that girl under the mistletoe!"

In unison, Rukia and Ichigo glanced up at the doorway, where a lovely sprig of mistletoe had been hung. Ichigo blushed while Rukia looked tense and pale. She was suddenly furious with Rangiku. Just because there was a mistletoe on the door didn't mean she had to point it out! They hadn't even noticed it until she'd gone and opened her big fat mouth! Not to mention how uncomfortable and tense they were with each other at the moment. This was the exact sort of situation Rukia had been avoiding last Saturday. But Rangiku had left them with little choice. To avoid the kiss now would draw a great deal of attention.

"Hurry up, Ichigo! We've got another carload of people behind us," Rangiku pointed out, grinning happily. "It's Christmas. Everybody gets a kiss under the mistletoe!"

Ichigo's eyes met Rukia's almost apologetically. He took a tentative step forward. Rukia, looking terribly tense, leaned slightly toward him. She could have offered him her cheek, but she met his lips uncertainly with hers instead.

It was a brief kiss, a Christmas kiss, a kiss that any man could have given any woman in the midst of the holiday season. Yet it sent a bolt of electric energy through both of the participants. When Ichigo pulled back, his eyes didn't leave Rukia's. And Rukia's hands were shaking.

After that, Ichigo made it a point to keep close to her. He hadn't left her side once since they'd arrived at the party, introducing her politely to everyone in sight. He couldn't seem to say Rukia's name without laying a hand on her arm, nor anyone else's without touching her own. If he'd been anyone but Ichigo, Rukia would have been oblivious to his courteous, platonic touch. But she was anything but oblivious to this man who had reached her so deeply, who made her sizzle with no more than a heated glance. By the time he stepped away to fetch her some punch, she knew it would take all of her strength of will to get through this evening without doing something she would sorely regret.

"Thank you for the punch, Ichigo," Rukia murmured when he returned with her glass.

"Careful there, Captain. You almost sounded friendly," he teased her playfully. "God forbid you should act as though you're enjoying my company this evening."

"I always enjoy your company," she replied with feigned nonchalance. "It's a nice party, isn't it?"

"I hadn't noticed." His voice was husky. "I thought we were here all alone."

Rukia swallowed a breath of panic. There were many times that Ichigo had come too close, times when he'd said things it was hard to ignore. But he'd always given her room to dodge his innuendos. He didn't seem to be giving her room to back off now.

"I agreed to attend this event with you because you assured me it was... dateless."

"Dateless?" he echoed with a dimpled grin. "Do you want me to pretend that you took hours to look drop-dead gorgeous tonight for the general public?"

Rukia gulped back a protest, but she had less luck with a blush. "This is a formal event, Ichigo. Your Aunt told me it would be rude to show up looking shabby."

"You're a long way from shabby, bunnyhead. You look good enough to eat."

"I thought I made my position clear, Ichigo! My professional reputa-"

"Rukia," he cut her off, his voice commandingly low and sexy, "Stop fighting me. This is a party. It's Christmastime. Everybody's in a loving mood. Nobody's going to think we're having a raging affair just because you're nice to me tonight."

At that moment somebody bumped into Rukia, forcing her to step closer to Ichigo. When her breasts grazed his chest, she lost her grip on the punch glass in her hand. Rukia winced as the bright liquid seeped quickly into the beautiful Oriental rug. I'll have to pay to have this rug cleaned; it's the least I can do, she told herself as she leaned down to pick up the glass, which at least hadn't broken. But Ichigo leaned down at the same moment, taking the glass with one hand as he brushed her arm with the other.

She waited for him to step away, but instead he moved still closer. Rukia couldn't meet his smoldering amber eyes, afraid they might ignite something inextinguishable within her. "You've made me feel welcome," she admitted shakily. Then, in a fair imitation of her Captain's voice, she suggested, "Now maybe it would be best if you welcomed some other guests."

For a long moment Ichigo didn't answer, didn't protest, didn't step away. Then he ordered softly, "Dance with me, Ru."

Rukia shook her head. She struggled for breath. The mere idea of touching him made parts of her body tingle. He was already way too close.

"I don't think that's a good idea." She tried to sound strong and haughty, but her voice came out in a squeak.

"I think you're wrong." His voice was husky now.

She tried to walk away-run away-but she could not. The band was starting up a sentimental Christmas tune that had a curiously melting effect on her resolutions. She wanted to reach up and put her arms around Ichigo's neck. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to press her breasts against his broad chest and pull him close.

Then, to her astonishment, Ichigo confessed, "I'm not going to make it another five minutes without putting my arms around you, Rukia. Don't you think it'd be less obvious if I did it on the dance floor?"

A wild swirl of need erupted somewhere within Rukia. Against all common sense, she was thrilled by his words. God, how she wanted him to hold her! How she wanted the kiss she'd turned away on the ice!

Suddenly she could not protest. She could not speak. Worse yet, she couldn't look away. She knew it was foolish not to run or fight; she knew Ichigo would take anything less as a sign of surrender.

And then he smiled. It was that amber-eyed dimpled smile that had melted Rukia the first time she'd ever seen it. It was twice as devastating now. It was a lover's smile, a smile of need and promise, a smile that begged her to give in.

Through the low-cut satin, Rukia felt a broad, warm male hand guide her toward the dance floor. She could feel hot fingerprints on her spine as Ichigo stopped to introduce her to an old friend on the way. She didn't catch the man's name. She wasn't even sure if she responded to his greeting. All she knew was that her senses were on overload.

The room was stuffy, but she knew that wasn't why she could hardly breathe. The heat from Ichigo's hand was spreading up and down her legs. Rukia felt too shaky to stand, let alone to dance in a roomful of people. By the time they reached the dance floor, the band had started playing an old love song in waltz time.

"I don't know how to waltz," Rukia said, surprised to hear the quavering in her own voice.

"Neither do I," Ichigo answered. He took her in his arms, anyway.

Rukia knew there was some vital reason why she shouldn't feel so light-headed, so flagrantly aroused by his touch. It had to do with her career, which meant her life. It had to do with some vision of herself that she'd left at home when she'd slipped into this emerald dress... and forgotten to don her armor.

Mercifully, Rukia and Ichigo weren't the only couple on the dance floor mixing the dance styles of generations; besides, the corner of the room was so dim and crowded that nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. Rukia told herself she would be courteous and stay for just one dance before she tore herself away from him. Surely she could last a few minutes without plastering herself against Ichigo and begging for a kiss!

The music was a sad, aching melody with lyrics that revealed how the singer had reached the edge of his endurance.

How long can I pretend not to love you? How cruel, baby, can you really be? How long can I live without you? How long can you live without me?

Rukia did her best to ignore the lyrics, even though Ichigo started to caress her bare back when the chorus started. She felt herself moving closer, struggling to keep from pressing her forehead against his chest, struggling to keep from pressing her lower half against his thighs. Even when she felt the top of her hair brush his chin, she couldn't seem to pull back from him.

The hand that had claimed her fingers began to tug her closer, the hand on her back nudged her closer, too. Rukia was drowning now... fighting wild bursts of longing... certain she had to escape him... utterly unable to.

By this time she was trembling. Worse yet, Ichigo was trembling, too. When Rukia foolishly glanced up at him, she saw naked hunger flame in his eyes. Urgently he pulled her nearer. Every line of his face confessed the potency of his desire.

Rukia didn't need a road map to see where Ichigo was heading. He was a virile man who'd run out of patience. The kiss under the mistletoe had only made things worse. If they'd been alone, Rukia knew he would have been tearing off her clothes by now. She also knew she couldn't count on her own self-control tonight. Her only protection was the crowd of people in this room.

The second time the chorus started, Ichigo began humming. It was too subtle a message for anyone nearby to understand, but to Rukia, it was as though he were singing the aching words right along with the anguished lover in the song.

How long can I pretend not to love you? How cruel, baby, can you really be? How long can I live without you? How long can you live without me?

By the time the song mercifully ended, Rukia was shaking. She knew she was out of control. Her panic was like that of a wild bird trapped inside a room; she was ready to throw herself against a window.

"Ichigo, I want to go get something to eat. Alone," she declared desperately, struggling to free herself from the firm, erotic hold he now had on her waist. "I'll talk to you later-"

"Come to me, Rukia. Come tonight to my room."

Her eyes flashed up in pure terror. Was she really so transparent to him? Could he feel the rush of desire he triggered just by that suggestion. Did he know what he was doing to her?

His amber eyes were blazing with the same desire he surely read in her own pools of violet. His frustration was palpable, his need a living thing she could almost see and hold.

"Ichigo, I can't!" she begged in panic. "I've told you and told you-"

"Then I'll come to yours."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Ichigo wasn't sorry he'd pushed Rukia so hard. For a while there-for most of the past week-he'd wondered if he'd imagined that she shared his feelings for her. But most of his questions had been answered on the ice; the rest had been answered tonight. The last of Rukia's resistance had cracked during that dance. If they'd been alone, he'd have claimed her by now. He was damned well going to claim her by morning.

He decided to mingle while he gave her a little time to collect herself, but he didn't get very far before he was buttonholed by Mashiro. The dress she wore was pure Mashiro-neon purple, strapless, with a wild shooting star display of rhinestones across the miniskirt. As soon as she got close enough to Ichigo, she started right in with her teasing.

"Where's your roomie tonight, Ichigo?" she asked with a cocky grin.

Ichigo played along with her, knowing that in Mashiro's case it was high spirits, not insight, that caused her to tease him about Rukia.

"Lost her to some other man. We were dancing and then-whoops! Some tall, dark and handsome stranger cut in."

Mashiro giggled, then dropped her voice. "She's a real hardnose, Ichi. Came out to see me Friday. About the burglary last week, you know?"

The news surprised Ichigo. Rukia hadn't mentioned her follow-up visit to Mashiro. Of course, they hadn't been talking shop tonight. Police work was the last thing on his mind.

"So, what happened?"

"She wanted to know about some old suitcase that got stollen from the garage. I didn't even know about it. Kensei just remembered it because last summer he used it to prop up his worktable."

"And?"

She didn't meet his eyes. One ankle dipped, as though she were resting a sore foot. "Ichi, she wanted to know all about the suitcase, how long it had been there, what was in it... stuff like that."

He waited.

"She wanted to know all sorts of things that nobody ever asked before. After she left I got to thinking..." Her eyes flashed up at his with an expression he'd never seen on Mashiro's face before, a look that resembled a mix of fear and apprehension. "Ichigo, drop by when you can, okay? I don't think we should go into this here."

Before he could reply, Lisa joined him as Mashiro slipped away.

"Yoruichi asked me to relay a message to you from your Captain," Lisa said soberly. "Apparently there's been another robbery that she felt needed her immediate attention. She told Nanao to send a cruiser to pick her up, but she wants you to stay here and represent the station, so to speak. She'll get her own ride home."

Ichigo wasn't sure how to answer. Since when did a police Captain have to leave a party just because there was a robbery? Only one or two reasons would justify sending out a cruiser. Suddenly afraid for his men, he asked, "Was there an officer-in-need-of-assistance call?"

Quickly Lisa shook her head. "Oh, no, Ichigo! Nothing like that! I would remember. Actually, I think Yoruichi did say something about reassuring you that nobody was injured." Before he had time to relax, she added, "She also said something about a van, but I don't think she understood quite what Rukia meant by that."

Clearly the van had no significance to Yoruichi or Lisa, but it meant a lot to Ichigo. It meant that those two punks were leaving a hell of a lot of egg on the faces of Karakura's finest. Worse yet, it meant that Rukia was grasping at straws in a desperate, last-ditch attempt to run away from him.

But she'd never run fast enough. Not in the mood he was in tonight.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Rukia knew that she was behaving like a coward. She'd escaped from the party on the flimsiest of excuses, and sooner or later she'd have to go home and face Ichigo. But she couldn't live at the boardinghouse. Not anymore. Not after tonight. She'd never intended to stay there very long; she'd always planned to buy a little house. But she hadn't intended to run out and buy any old place just to get away from the only man who'd ever made her wonder whether her career was worth the price she'd always paid for it. She had to escape from the man who had the power to soften her hard edge, melt her ice cold heart, ruin her reputation and destroy her life.

In the private cocoon of her office, Rukia tried to think clearly. Before she saw Ichigo again, she simply had to have a plan. It wasn't cheating to put him on the four-to-twelve shift until they nailed the two punks in the van. Even Nanao, who'd posted the new roster, said it was a logical assignment for a second in command. If Rukia could just keep away from Ichigo in the evenings and pretend to be asleep when he got home... yes, that might buy her a little time.

First thing tomorrow she would call a Realtor. Thank God they worked on Christmas Eve! After that she'd come back to the office and volunteer to ride patrol for one of the guys who'd asked for time off over Christmas. She didn't want to think about the lonely holiday, anyway-when the loss of her father seemed so hard to bear-and there was no way she could join the others who congregated at the Uraharas.

It was a great plan, but Rukia knew that none of it would help her when she went home tonight. Ichigo hadn't been kidding when he'd said he would come to her after the party. She'd heard the need in his voice, felt the hunger in his hands. Worse yet, he'd felt her own raw need, seen it on her face. He was all too sure she'd welcome him.

She hadn't come up with any scheme short of locking her bedroom door when Ichigo himself barged into the station, exchanged a handful of words with Nanao, then stormed into Rukia's office without so much as a preliminary knock. At once he filled the room with his great size, his barely capped anger and his potent desire. Furiously he slammed the door and locked it.

"Crawled into your burrow to hide, did you, Rukia? Are you planning to sleep here, too? Maybe even lock yourself in a holding cell for safekeeping?" He didn't give her a chance to answer before he plowed on. "Funny, I didn't take you for a quitter! I thought you were the type to face life head-on!"

He'd circled Rukia's desk as he shouted at her, giving her no room to escape. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so small and helpless. Certainly not since she'd been a cop.

"I don't need to explain myself to you, Ichigo," she retorted as stiffly as she was able. "What I do is none of your business!"

He edged closer still, his movements smooth and predatory. "Gonna buy a dead bolt for your door? Or are you planning to use that loaded gun you keep by your bed if I try to break in tonight?"

She knew he was angry, knew he had a right to be. She hadn't been honest with him. She'd given him every reason to believe she returned his own passionate feelings-and not just tonight-then had slunk away like a coward.

But she had the right to her feelings, too. A right to her own life! And she most certainly had a right to her own office! It was inexcusable for a subordinate officer to make her quiver in this private room.

"Ichigo, I don't attempt to interfere in your off-duty hours. I don't know why you persist in meddling in mine!"

"Oh, yes, you'd never meddle with my off-duty time! Nanao tells me that you've changed the roster this week so I'll work evenings while you're still working days. How convenient!" he burst out. He leaned forward, glaring at her as he grabbed the arms of her chair. "What an underhanded thing to do! Just like a woman, too!"

It was the last line that made Rukia begin to sizzle in a slow, angry burn that rose as Ichigo kept yelling at her, revealing his disrespect for her with every word. It was obvious he'd never come to terms with her Captaincy or her inner strength as a person; even now, he expected her to turn tail and run at the first sign of danger. Yet Rukia knew she'd done just that as a woman faced with the demands of the man she loved. Was Ichigo really so off base, fearing she'd try to wiggle out of a tight spot the same way in her role as a cop?

"For your information, Lieutenant, I have moved your shift because I need my best man to put an end to these ongoing break-ins," she informed him crisply, rising to her feet and pulling her courage tightly around herself like a blanket. Ichigo didn't back off. He stood almost as close to her as he had on the dance floor. "We had three more tonight! No man on this force is better equipped to figure out what's going on in this town! But if you don't think you're capable of-"

"Stop it, Rukia!" he ordered, his voice low and deadly. "Don't you dare "lieutenant" me! This isn't about my job or yours! This is about you and me and what we want when we're out of uniform!"

Panicking, Rukia cried out, "What I want out of uniform is the same thing I want when I'm in it! The knowledge that I'm working to the best of my capabilities! The respect of the community! The support of my men!"

Suddenly she felt two broad male hands on her waist. "None of that's going to keep you warm at night, Rukia. None of it's going to put out the fire burning deep inside you."

It was in that moment that Rukia made a deadly mistake. She was so stunned when he touched her-right there in her office with Nanao outside the locked door-that she couldn't at once think of scathing words. And while she was wrestling with the sudden rush of longing triggered by his magnificent male hands, Ichigo cheated. He broke all the rules.

She didn't see it coming; couldn't believe he'd be so bold. But suddenly she felt his lips on hers, lips she'd dreamed of for the past three weeks, lips that claimed Rukia as Ichigo's woman and shook her, heart and soul. She tried to fight him, tried to remember all the escapes she'd learned for such a hold. But each and every one required the firm belief that her safety was in danger. A firm belief that what this man was doing to her body was all wrong. But her body was singing that Ichigo Kurosaki's flaming touch made the whole world seem damn perfect.

Fiercely he pulled her tightly against him, and for just a moment, Rukia rejoiced in the heat of his hard male body, sought his mouth as he crushed her in his arms. She nearly buckled with the force of her own desire. It was so right, so incredibly, unbearably right to merge with him this way!

It was also incredibly, unbearably wrong.

She pressed her hands against his chest with some vague intent to push him away, but her fingers tugged loose his tie and stroked his throat instead. She told herself to hammer at his windpipe, to break his hold at the wrists, but her brain short-circuited the command. The Captain in her could not put her arms around him and pull him close, but the woman, in her passion, could not bear to push him away.

And then, in the misty distance, Rukia heard a voice squawking on the police radio. It was an ordinary message-there was no sound of panic-and Nanao, out in the squad room, answered the same way. But the simple exchange rocketed Rukia back to reality. And reality meant that if she yielded to this turbulent emotion-if she let her love for this man break her iron will-she'd never trust herself to be a steely cop again. She'd never trust herself to be Captain Rukia Kuchiki. And if she wasn't her father's daughter, who on earth could she be?

Resolutely she told herself that she was the Captain of the Karakura substation of the Seireitei Department. The Captain could not allow a man under her command to kiss her in her office! Even at home, she could never yield to a man who had the power to bring her to her knees.

Bleeding inside, Rukia wrenched away from Ichigo. It took all the strength she had. More strength, in fact, than she'd believed she had within her.

Ichigo was breathing hard, and she could feel the power of his longing in the hands that gripped her once again. She could see confusion and despair in his eyes... and love for her in his virile face.

"Babe, don't tell me this isn't right." His voice was low and ripe with passion. He didn't command her. He beseeched. "I'd never press you if I didn't know you loved me, Ru. I won't give up unless you swear this isn't what you want."

Rukia stepped back. She had to look away. She was flailing, struggling for her life. She could not meet his haunted eyes. If she weakened now, he'd win this battle. And if he won this battle, she'd lose the whole war.

Summoning all the strength she'd inherited from her father, Rukia faced Ichigo with a mask of ice. In sharply measured tones, she decreed, "Lieutenant Kurosaki, you are out of line. Get out of my office. Report to duty tomorrow at four o'clock."

Abruptly his despair flared into anger. "The hell I will! Ru, we can't go on like this! I know this isn't the place to be kissing you-" once more he reached out and urgently grabbed her hand "-but I had to make you see-"

"What you have made me see, Lieutenant, is that you are capable of totally unprofessional behavior and willful disregard of the chain of command." She jerked her hand away from his, then leveled him with the frosty expression she reserved for unruly criminals. "I'm only going to say this once, so I suggest you commit it to memory." She leaned forward and dropped each word like a rock tumbling off the edge of a riverbank. "If you ever touch me like that again, Lieutenant Kurosaki, I will have your badge."

AN

Dun dun dun! Damn you Byakuya for influencing Rukia from the grave! It's so hard to right angsty drama like that. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway. FYI, I made up the lyrics for that song, unless there really is a song out there like that I just don't know about. Oh yeah, and the date this takes place on is December 23rd if you're wondering. So now can you please, please, please review.


	9. Chapter 9

AN

Sorry to keep you guys waiting. It would have been here sooner but apparently technology enjoys screwing with me. Damn computers and their viruses! Or it could have been the website. Anyway, if your reading this then it means I finally got this up so yay! Expect more adult themes and angst for awhile. I can't please everyone, but I try so I hope you guys enjoy.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Chapter Nine

It was almost 4-00 A.M. by the time Ichigo got back to his room. He realized, with still-festering anger, that if he had a home of his own, he wouldn't have to worry about running into his nemesis or his overly protective aunt, both of whom he'd encountered in the past at this time of night. He'd saved enough money to start building a house on some property he'd acquired by the lake, but what was the point? He didn't want to live alone out there. He wanted a whole bunch of children. He wanted a wife.

He sure as hell didn't want the woman in the next room.

He closed the door softly and tossed his coat on the bed, grateful for his only reprieve of the long, terrible weekend-returning unseen tonight. It had been a hellish few hours-he'd driven more than a hundred miles in light snowfall trying to calm down-but he was tired now. Most of his rage had burned out, and he was almost ready to face whatever happened when he encountered Rukia in the morning. He sure as hell wouldn't be surprising her with lillies and a bunny! Rukia-make that the Captain-would either write up that humiliating incident in his file or simply freeze him out from now on. Either way, she would make his life unbearable. And either way, she would still tantalize him, beckon to him, make him ache as he lay alone each night in this damn empty bed.

He wasn't sure how he was going to deal with that problem in the long run, but he was sure of three things. He would not surrender his badge to Rukia Kuchiki; he would not abandon Karakura; and he would never, ever touch her again.

He knew Rukia well enough to know that her vehement display of anger in her office might have been just for show. And he knew himself well enough to realize that maybe he hadn't given her very much choice. But knowing that he'd backed her into a corner didn't do much to mollify Ichigo's feelings. For weeks Rukia had been giving him hints that she wasn't any more satisfied with their platonic relationship than he was. She'd given him every sign she was ready to surrender to him tonight. He'd followed her unspoken lead and she'd kicked him in the shins. It wasn't a scene he was likely to forget.

Ichigo had just pulled off his shirt when the knock came on his outer door-soft, apologetic, beseeching. Aunt Yoruichi. Had to be. Uncle Kisuke wouldn't bother him in the middle of the night, and Rukia wouldn't come near him tonight for love nor money. He didn't have much money to offer her anyway, and she'd made it excruciatingly clear that she didn't want his love.

"Come in," he called out irritably. He'd just finished tugging off his shoes when the door opened, revealing a beautiful face framed in raven-black curls. It was the first time in weeks Rukia had used the outer door instead of the one through the bathroom. Dressed in her Chappy bathrobe, she hovered on the threshold, twisting nervous circles in a clump of her magnificent hair. Her party clothes and makeup had vanished-like Cinderella's trappings after the ball-but the mere sight of her filled Ichigo with every damnable emotion he'd spent the past two hours trying to eradicate.

The nighttime chill-or his instinctive reaction to Rukia-brought goose bumps to Ichigo's bare arms and chest. He was tempted to slip his shirt back on, but the audacity of Rukia's invasion of his private space filled him with fresh rage.

"Get out," he barked.

"Ichigo-"

"Unless there's a police emergency that requires my attention, Captain Kuchiki," he growled, "Get the hell out of my room."

"Ichigo, I just want-"

"I mean it." His fury was growing now. "This is my home, the place I live my personal life, and you've made it abundantly clear that you'd rather die than have any part of that." He took an angry step toward her, surprised that she looked so small and frozen out in the hallway, unwilling to barge into his room. "If you still want my badge, you'll have to wait till I report for duty."

For a long moment, his eyes met Rukia's eyes, beautiful violet eyes that had once been able to-dear God, could they still?-move him so profoundly.

She took a deep breath as her gaze dropped to his naked chest, lingering a shade too long, then to the braided rug on the floor. "I'm sorry I disturbed you, Ichigo," she whispered in a small voice he'd never heard her use before. Quietly she shut the door.

Ichigo listened to Rukia start back to her own room, her footsteps rushed and faltering. The last thing in the world he wanted at the moment was another encounter with that fickle woman, but everything about their brief conversation struck him as wrong. Under the circumstances, Ichigo was astounded that she'd waited up for him, astounded that she'd sounded meek as a puppy, astounded that she'd come to his room at all. Had something terrible happened? Did she need his help? After what she'd done to him this evening, she'd have to be desperate to approach him.

Angrily he yanked open the door and followed her into the hall. "What the hell do you want?" he barked, worried now but still too tense to sound civil.

"It doesn't matter," Rukia answered without turning around. "It's too late, anyway."

As she pushed open her own door, Ichigo grabbed her elbow, releasing it quickly when he remembered her last threat in the office.

"Captain," he growled, "There must be some reason you found it necessary to come to my room in the middle of the night. I won't get any sleep until you tell me what it is."

He watched her shoulders straighten, watched her struggle for composure as she turned around. She faced him squarely, but her eyes were shiny, pooling with tears. The sight touched Ichigo in a way that surprised him. He had only seen Rukia Kuchiki cry once before, and that was when she'd been quite ill. Whatever had happened since they'd last talked was clearly tearing her apart.

"I came to apologize for my... outburst this evening, Ichigo. I don't want you to worry about your position in Karakura because of our... misunderstanding." She stopped, gulped once or twice and finished clumsily, "I shouldn't have threatened you like that. I just didn't know how else to make my position clear."

"You made your position crystal clear," he snapped at her. "The only thing that confuses me is why you showed up at my room tonight."

She blinked rapidly. One tear spilled over. "I can't bear it when you're mad at me!" Rukia tried to say the words with dignity, but they came out forced and desperate. "I want you to know that I'll miss you terribly! I'm sorrier than you know that I can't risk being your friend!"

She moved quickly toward the safe haven of her room, but Ichigo was inside before she could shut the door.

"I don't want you in here," she ordered, the tears flowing freely now. "It's not appropriate and-"

"Rukia, stop it! You've waited for hours to talk to me and you're falling apart at the seams. You're not making any sense! We've got to get things straight between us so we can go on working together."

"I just wanted to apologize. I did!" Pain riddled every syllable. "Now I just want to forget the whole thing."

He stood in the dark, barely able to see her face by the dim light of her bedside lamp. But he could smell the soft scent of her, hear the sound of her stifled sobs.

"So do I," he admitted slowly, hating himself for wanting her all over again. "But I can't."

For a long, terrible moment, Rukia did not reply, but she kept on weeping. He longed to take her in his arms, but he didn't dare. He couldn't count the times she'd given him every reason to believe she wanted him, then pushed him away at the very moment he'd been certain she was going to give in.

"Dammit, Ru, did I really read you so wrong?"

To Ichigo's astonishment, Rukia leaned forward and rested her forehead against his bare chest. It jolted him like the most erotic of skin-to-skin contacts.

"Of course you didn't read me wrong!" she confessed, her moist lips vibrating against his skin. "But you only read part of the book."

Gingerly he touched her shoulder. "Rukia..."

"I want you! I admit it!"

The words electrified him. His whole body surged with need. But the moisture of her tears robbed him of any joy he might have taken from her confession.

"I tried so hard not to let you know it, but I failed over and over again! When you kissed me in the office with Nanao out there and the radio squawking, I knew I couldn't tiptoe around it anymore. I couldn't even risk being your friend!"

"Jeez, Rukia, I went in there mad as hell! Nanao wouldn't have risked poking her nose inside. Besides, I locked the damn door! It wasn't as though-"

"You reached me, Ichigo!" She was sobbing openly now, pressing her wet cheek against his chest. "When you stomped out of that office, you took something with you that I don't think I can get back again!"

Ichigo shed the last of his common sense and wrapped his arms around her fiercely. He kissed the top of her head, her temple, her ear. Rukia clung to him, still weeping, her nails digging into his ribs.

She lifted her face to his and whispered huskily, "Don't kiss me, Ichigo! Don't ever kiss me again!"

He kissed her. She kissed him back. Her lips felt hot, wildly urgent. His lips were hotter still.

Ichigo's hands slipped up to the back of Rukia's neck, cradled it, while she pressed herself against him. He could feel every intimate curve of her body seeking every ridge of his own. He sizzled. She burned. The kiss went from soft to hard, from loving to aching, from tentative offer to demanding claim.

A full minute passed before Rukia broke away from him.

"I mean it, Ichigo." Her lips still grazed his even as she spoke. Her yearning tongue bathed his, begged his, and it was some time before she could plead for his mercy again. "I don't want this," she insisted, still hugging him close. "I can't bear it! There's nowhere for this to go!"

There's a bed right behind us! What other destination could there be? he longed to say. But he was already well past words. This horrible night had robbed him of all patience, all discretion, all restraint. He pulled on her sash, slipped one hand inside her bathrobe, and cupped the firm, round flesh of one breast hiding beneath the soft, blue satin gown.

Rukia gasped. Ichigo tensed, afraid he'd gone too fast, but suddenly she was pressing herself against his thighs with a moan. He kneaded her peaked nipple between his thumb and his forefinger, fighting the overpowering urge to press her back against the mattress. Every line of her body told him she was fighting it, too.

"Bunnyhead," he confessed, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. You fill me. You make me ache. You make me want things I-"

"Stop it, Ichigo!" Her voice was desperately pleading now. She was clinging to his waist, struggling to undo his zipper. "I can't do this! I can't stop if you won't help me! Please, Ichigo! Please!"

Ichigo would have honored her plea, but there was no doubt in his mind that Rukia desperately wanted him to make love to her. Still, it bothered him that she kept begging him to stop while she was doing everything in her power to seduce him. Was this part of her erotic technique? Had she been teasing him all along to make him this hot? Or did she really believe that her very selfhood would be compromised if she took him to bed tonight?

Somehow Ichigo managed to release her breast, managed to still the searching hands at the front of his slacks. With one trembling arm he still held her tightly. Gently he kissed her forehead.

"Time out," he whispered hoarsely. "Just for a moment. I want you desperately, Rukia, and not just for tonight. Don't play games with me. Tell me straight. I know it's vital not to get you pregnant, if that's what's worrying you. And I know we have to keep this under wraps, at least for now, but-"

"No. No, no, no!" Rukia took a deep breath. She was still trembling, but she no longer pressed herself against him with such vigor. Still, she did not pull away.

She kissed his bare chest just once, her tongue lingering. Then she vowed painfully, "I can't make love with you, Ichigo. I wasn't putting up a smoke screen before. I thought you understood. No matter how much I want you, I simply cannot have an affair with a man under my command. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did."

He struggled to control his hunger, his disappointment, his sudden surge of fresh rage. "What are you saying? I'm not good enough for you because you outrank me?"

She took his face in both of her quivering hands. "I want you more than I've ever wanted any man in my life! I respect you! I ache for you!" Her voice was so low he could hardly hear her now. "I love you, Ichigo!"

Something within him broke. With tender urgency he cupped her head against his chest. "Oh, god, Ru, I love you, too!"

She gave his chest a half dozen more fierce, nipping kisses, then lifted her lips to his once more. Ichigo kissed her again, and her mouth sizzled as he plunged his tongue inside it. Everything sizzled for another few moments, but Rukia stepped back once more when he tried to move her toward the bed.

Ready to explode, Ichigo opened his eyes and stared at her. Her hair was wildly askew and her face looked flushed with fear mixed in with desire.

"Please, Ichigo!" Her voice was husky with anguish now. "I love you, but I can't!"

Ichigo felt so hot and hard he could have entered her right then, without another kiss or fondle; he was trembling so violently he could hardly stand. He sure as hell couldn't make sense of her contradictory protests.

"Ichigo, don't you understand? This isn't your decision! This is my life, my job, my self-respect!" Now she sounded like the Rukia he knew. Captain Kuchiki. The tyrant who never wavered from her position.

Desperately Ichigo took her face in his hands once more, but this time Rukia pulled away and drew her bathrobe sash up tight. "I mean it, Ichigo," she pleaded, anguish and desperation lacing the words. "I want you to go while you still can."

Ichigo was too angry to speak, yet too aroused to leave. A thousand emotions wrestled within him. He loved her and hated her, tried to believe her and tried not to. He took three deep breaths, struggling to steady himself, struggling to walk out of her room.

Still, he might have reached for her one more time if she hadn't whispered, "Ichigo, take even one step, or try to come near me and I'll... I'll..." She fought back a sob. "I will never, ever forgive you! Worse yet, I won't ever forgive myself!"

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

"He's going back to his own room now," Yoruichi said to Kisuke, snuggling closer to him in bed. "Do you think he was in there long enough for them to make up?"

Kisuke sighed, wrapped a fond arm around his wife and shook his head. "I don't know, Yoru. All I'm sure of is that it's nobody's business but Ichigo's and Rukia's. Can't you leave them alone?"

"If they're happy, certainly. But Rukia was at the station house till three o'clock and Ichigo stayed out till four! You can't tell me that everything's just hunkydory between them!"

He absentmindedly ruffled her hair. "I didn't say everything was okay. I said it was none of our business. If Ichigo wants our advice, then he'll ask for it."

Yoruichi rolled her eyes. "What's gotten into you, Kisuke? This isn't like you at all! Why, if Isshin were still alive you two would be pressing glasses up against their doors and coming up with ridiculous and embarrassing schemes to mess with them."

He chuckled as his gaze turned reminiscent. "Yeah, we would. But things change. People change." She didn't look convinced. "Look, Yoruichi I'm begging you to let the poor boy work out his own love life? Have faith that they'll be able to get through whatever it is that's plaguing them."

Yoruichi sighed. "Okay, okay, I get it Kisuke. I'll leave them alone. But I sure hope they get their acts together and soon."

He patted her head reassuringly. "I hope so too. For both of their sakes."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Somehow Rukia made it through the next two days. Unable to bear the memories that cloaked her office, she spent hours prowling the streets in her cruiser, and the sight of a newly married couple standing on the church steps only increased her gloom. She made a few DUI arrests and told herself that if she'd kept some Karakura citizens from being killed in sensless accidents, she could be proud of her job. But her pride didn't do much to ease the memory of what had nearly transpired with Ichigo in her room.

The only bright spot of the whole terrible time was that Nanao, who was also single and had volunteered to work, had baked Rukia some brownies.

"I know you don't approve of celebrating Christmas in the office," she'd told her boss "But I thought you'd might like something special when you go home."

Moved by the undeserved act of kindness, Rukia had surprised Nanao by giving her a hug and asking her to share some of the brownies right on the spot. Nanao hadn't asked any questions about Rukia's obvious unhappiness, but the uptight woman had been exceptionally kind to her from then on.

It was Nanao who relayed Rukia's request to Ichigo later in the week that she wanted to see him when he came on duty. She knew she wasn't ready to face him alone in the confines of her office, but she had a job to do.

For the past few terrible days since Ichigo had left her room that morning, they had danced around each other, exchanging cool, proper greetings when they reluctantly came face-to-face. Once or twice Rukia had issued an order, and Ichigo had replied with a terse "Yes, Captain" that had wounded her to the core.

Still, she couldn't blame him. What she had done-leading him on, in essence, when she'd known she could not possibly make love to him-had been inexcusable. She should have waited till morning to apologize; she should have stayed dressed; she should never have let him into her room. But those were superficial problems. Her big mistake was not that she had let him kiss her, but that she had let him ignite her carnal desires. Long before the night of the Christmas party Rukia had known that she loved Ichigo, known that his virility called to her every female pore. Still, she had not expected to be wrenched off her very foundation with a single kiss. No man had ever moved her quite like that before.

He had told her he loved her. She believed him. Not because he'd begged her to make love with him, but because when he'd finally realized how desperately sorry Rukia would be if she gave in, he had silently left her room. She would always be greatful to him for that... and for so many other things. Rukia wanted to believe that she would have found the strength to send him away if he'd fought her that blazing night, but it was a theory she never wanted to test.

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" His voice was civil but devoid of warmth as he poked his head in the doorway. Not a hint of passion lurked in his cold amber eyes.

"Yes, Lieutenant. Please come in and close the door."

He did so-warily, it seemed to Rukia.

"I wanted to discuss this report with you." She plucked it from her desk but did not thrust it at him.

"What report is that, Captain?" he asked coolly.

"The report on the bullet that was found in Meiko Kuna's old room at the Kunas house," she retorted. "You knew I'd want to know about that right away. Why didn't you mention it?"

Ichigo glared at her, his body so stiff he might as well have been standing at attention. "I filed my report the minute I returned from interrogating the subject, in accordance with staff notice 2B. I used the new form on the new computer using the new program, which I have mastered on my own time. If I have failed to follow the Captain's orders in some minuscule fashion, she should feel free to write me up and add it to-"

"Dammit, Ichigo! All I asked was a simple question!"

"Of course, Captain," he said crisply, refusing to lose control just because she had. "You asked why I did not mention the report to you personally. The answer is that I have never seen a memo that requires personal interaction between the Captain and subordinate officers. In fact, it is my understanding that the Captain frowns on such fraternization."

Rukia stared at him bleakly, almost too sad to be angry. Thank God she'd had enough sense to start looking for a new place to live! With any luck at all, her realtor would confirm her arrangements any day. "Is this the way it's going to be?" she asked sadly.

"I don't write the rules, Captain. I merely follow them."

Rukia didn't answer that. She wanted something she knew she couldn't have-a free, friendly relationship with Ichigo that allowed them both to savor the joys of a platonic relationship without any of the risks of becoming lovers. She wanted to strangle her libido, but it was a hopeless task.

"Lieutenant, your report indicates that you went to the Kunas home in response to a request from Mashiro Kuna-Muguruma. Did that call come in to the station for you in particuilar, or was it directed to anyone?"

"It was not a call, Captain. Mrs. Muguruma herself told me at the Christmas party I attended at the Kunas house that she had some information that might be relevant to an ongoing police investigation and asked me to continue our conversation privately at my earliest convenience. I went to see her the very next day."

He made this announcement without any expresssion, but Rukia knew he hadn't forgotten what he'd been doing in the wee hours of the morning. Just the thought of it made her body twitch with a leftover pulse of passion. Desperately she hoped that her still-potent need for Ichigo didn't show on her face.

"So Mashiro wanted to talk to the police, and you took it on yourself-"

"Correction, Captain. Mrs. Muguruma wanted to talk to me. She was quite precise."

Rukia didn't press it. Instead she asked, "And she admitted that she'd been withholding evidence?"

Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "She did no such thing. She reported that a workman had located the bullet during some house renovations recently and turned it over to her. The party preparations pushed everything else out of her mind. Apparently seeing us at the party jogged her memory."

Thinking of the party jogged Rukia's memory, too-sometime in that night of hazy passion and shame, she'd spilled a full glass of punch on the Kunas beautiful Oriental rug, and she'd forgotten to ask Yoruichi to whom she owed both apologies and the price of the cleaning. Once, she would have asked Ichigo, but she didn't dare speak a word more than necessary to him now.

"Do you believe Mashiro?" Rukia asked straightforwardly. She didn't. She suspected that her own recent visit to Mashiro-when she'd grilled the other woman about the old suitcase stolen from the garage-had caused her to decide to reveal some previously concealed information.

Ichigo's eyes were cold. "The facts are in my report, Captain."

"I read the report. I am trying to glean the impressions and opinions that a skilled officer can provide even though he cannot document them and therefore does not commit them to paper."

"Memo 6C clearly states that personal opinions have no place in police science. I therefore have nothing but facts to offer orally or in writing. If my report is unclear, Captain-"

"It's clear. Mashiro gave you a bullet that we can't match unless we have a weapon. We can't find a weapon unless we have a search warrant, and we can't issue a search warrant unless we have enough evidence to bring somebody in."

Ichigo did not reply. His eyebrows did not even twitch.

"I think someone close to Meiko did it. Probably her husband. But I'm a long way from proving it. If you have any reason to think that a member of the Kuna family has additional pertinent information about this matter, it is your duty to tell me, Lieutenant."

Ichigo's lips tightened. "I know my duty, Captain. Page 24.4 of the police manual states that-"

"All right! You win! Get out of here!" Rukia took a deep breath, slammed the report in the to-be-filed basket and grabbed a letter that had arrived in the morning's mail. She was just about to start writing a response when she realized that Ichigo hadn't moved toward the door. She did not look at him; she was still too angry to speak.

Surely he knew they couldn't carry on like this! She would have to give very serious thought to how to handle him in a way that would be both professional and fair. He had a right to be angry, but he was taking things too far.

"Captain?" His voice was softer now... or at least more civil.

Her eyes met his defiantly. "What do you have to say, Lieutenant?"

"If there's some deep, dark secret that the Kuna clan has been hiding all these years, I'm not privy to it. I think that finding the body has aroused a lot of slumbering memories that may or may not be related to the crime itself-I'm using my own sources to pursue that information-but I don't believe any of the family was directly involved in Meiko's death."

His voice was still low, still uncomfortable. But at least he was speaking to her as though she were a human being and not something he'd just scrapped off his shoe.

"If Seno Kuna killed his wife, I'm certain it was an accident," Ichigo vowed. "I know this man. He's not perfect. He might be capable of doing something stupid in a fit of rage-God knows that woman could have driven a saint to violence-but he loved her and grieved for her for decades. Under no circumstances would he have planned her murder. I'd stake my badge on it."

His unofficial report was a gift, and Rukia took it as such. "Thank you for your input, Lieutenant," she said quietly.

"Just doing my job, Captain. When push comes to shove, I'll always be a cop."

There were any number of ways Rukia could have taken his comment. Professionally, they were all positive. Personally, they all meant that he'd finally accepted her decree. The realization should have made her happy.

Carefully Rukia said, "Lieutenant, I don't want to make things difficult for you, and I'm sure you don't want to make them hard for me. As long as we don't let our personal relationship interfere with our professional obligations, I think we'll be able to work together just fine."

The brief illusion of camaraderie vanished in an instant. "Captain, we have no personal relationship," Ichigo answered tonelessly. "We have no relationship whatsoever."

He might as well have shot her right through the heart.

AN

Well there you go. I think it's safe to say that Rukia is one confused individual. She wants to have her cake and eat it too, if you will. It's almost like Ichigo's revenge in a way. Also, if I haven't said it already thank you all for putting up with my sporadic updates and also for all your support. Don't forget to let me know what you think in a review.


	10. Chapter 10

AN

Happy Hispanic Heritage month everyone! Blame school for my lateness. However, this lengthy chapter should make up for it. I'm pleased to say that Chad will be making an appearance, too. Not much else to say except the usual thanks for keeping up with this story.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Warning-Beware of some people (Ichigo and Rukia's) dirty thoughts.

Chapter Ten

Yoruichi answered the phone on the fourth ring. She'd called out for Kisuke to get it before she remembered that he was in the family room with Ichigo and Toshiro, who were glued to the television while one brawny bunch of cleated fellows stomped over another brawny set. Normally it was a happy occasion for the group. Yoruichi, who had no interest in football unless someone close to her was playing, spent the time preparing an enormous Sunday dinner.

But nobody was very happy in the family room today, because Ichigo had been acting like a bear with a sore paw ever since Christmas. That was a good two weeks ago, and the holidays were now behind them. But whatever had happened between Ichigo and Rukia had clearly not been resolved.

Not once since then had Yoruichi seen the two of them together. Poor Rukia looked pale and Ichigo looked like death warmed over. Both of them had parried her attempts to get them to share their feelings. It was obvious that they couldn't go on this way.

"Hello dear." It was Yomi Shihoin's cheery voice on the phone. "I just heard a bit of news I thought you should know. I hope it won't be too distressing."

"Oh?"

"You know that young lady you've got staying with you? The one who plays cops and robbers with Ichigo?"

Yoruichi knew Rukia would shudder at the description, but she was too interested in Yomi's gossip-and a little bit concerned-to correct her mother's mistake. "Yes?"

"Well, Sajin Komamura was over here this morning when he brought Chitose back from church. He's such a good son-in-law, you know. Every Sunday-"

"Mother, what did Sajin say?" Yoruichi was growing worried now. Sajin was a Realtor. If Rukia had been to see him...

"She called him on Christmas Eve. Told him to find her a cute little house to buy or rent as soon as possible. Chitose told me that Sajin says Rukia sounded downright desperate to get out of your house. I know there can't be anything wrong with your hospitality, dear. I imagine she's had some sort of lover's spat with Ichigo."

Yoruichi figured that was the understatement of the century. "Has Sajin had any luck?" she asked. "We don't have that many small houses for sale in Karakura."

"No, we don't. But Chitose's next-door neighbor had a stroke last month and may be here to stay. Sajin got her to agree to lease the house to Rukia with an option to buy if she can't go home in a year."

Yoruichi closed her eyes as she waited for the news that would break Ichigo's heart.

"The lease begins on January fifteenth. She'll be moving out next weekend."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Aunt Yoruichi was gentle when she told Ichigo the news, but he still wanted to bang his head against a wall. Oh, he knew Rukia had done him a favor. The Uraharas were his people. She was the one who had to leave. Hadn't he told her that the night she'd moved in? How he'd hated her then! Now he lay awake, night after night, listening to Rukia toss and turn in the bed she'd so savagely denied him. The days were even worse, when keeping the crudest emotional distance from her seemed to be the only way Ichigo could survive. If he gave an inch, he'd be on his knees to her, begging her to surrender to him all over again.

If the problem had merely been sex, he could have tripled his workout time and found some way to ignore it. But it was so much more than that. He ached for Rukia in a way he could not explain, because he'd never hurt for a woman quite this way before. He had grown accustomed to living with her, side by side, day by day, in a quiet kind of marriage that went far beyond the delights of sex or the demands of the job. It was pure hell to have her so near and yet so brutally far away.

Yes, he was glad she was going. But dammit, why did his grandmother's news make him feel like some giant fish speared through the heart?

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

On Wednesday night, Rukia was still awake when Ichigo came in after his late shift. She was always awake, always listening, always worried about how much she'd hurt him, worried about how much he'd hurt her. And, because he was a cop, even in a little place like Karakkura, she was always worried that something might happen to him.

There didn't seem to be any solution to their problem. At first, when Ichigo became so stiff and angry, Rukia had almost been relieved. Anything had seemed easier than fending off his incredibly potent kisses. But over time the relief had faded and the pain was growing worse. Rukia was once more starting to seek some magical middle ground where they could each give some kind of platonic friendship without unbearable guilt and lust.

She was lying in bed, fighting a twinge of recurrent pain in her scarred left shoulder, when she heard Ichigo's footsteps on the stairs around 1-00 A.M. The tantalizing aroma of pepperoni wafted through the cracks under the door. Following her instincts, Rukia jumped out of bed, taking a moment to pull on jeans and a t-shirt. After their previous middle-of-the-night fiasco, the last thing she wanted to do was go to his room in her bathrobe.

Rukia reached Ichigo's door just as he was closing it. He spotted her and opened the door a crack, scowling. "What do you want? Trouble at the station house?"

She shook her head, hating his dry indifference. "I woke up to the smell of pizza," she declared in forced light tones. "The temptation is killing me. Got enough for two?"

Ichigo looked surprised, but nonetheless tore off a couple of joined sheets from the roll of paper towels under his arm. Without a single wasted motion, he tugged three pieces of pizza out of the box, laid them on the paper towels and thrust them in her direction. Then he asked coldly, "Is there anything else that won't wait until I'm back on duty, Captain?"

Gravely she met his eyes, struggling for words to break the impasse. "When my father worked swing shift, he never could go right to sleep. He liked to watch TV or read for a while. He loved it if I was still awake when he came in. Then we'd sit and talk about all kinds of things."

A wash of pain darkened Ichigo's weary features. Rukia could see his stubbled jaw tighten.

He hasn't forgotten the passion that singed us the one time we broke all the rules. She hugged the thought to herself. He didn't lie when he confessed his love for me.

Darkly he warned, "I'm not your father, Captain." He started to close the door again.

"Ichigo-" he opened the door once more "-I wanted to tell you about some more evidence I found pertaining to Meiko Kuna's death."

His eyes narrowed. "Evidence?"

"I think so." Actually, Rukia wasn't sure whether she'd found any evidence or not, but her serendipitous discovery might keep him listening for a few more minutes. "Do you remember that I spilled some punch on that Oriental rug at the Kunas' house on Christmas Eve?"

He winced as though the memory were one he'd like to forget. "I remember."

"Well, by the time I thought to ask Yoruichi who I should discuss it with, Mashiro had already sent it to the cleaners. So I called the cleaners to intercept the bill, and as soon as I mentioned the spill, this guy-"

"Hanataro Yamada."

"Right, Hanataro Yamada. He said that he'd had to send the rug to Seireitei for special treatment. The punch was no problem, but it would cost extra for the blood. And I said, 'What blood?' because I didn't remember anybody getting hurt while I was there."

"Nobody got hurt before I left, either."

"Exactly. Nobody got hurt at all. I asked Yoruichi that after he told me that he thought the blood was really old and dried up."

Ichigo looked tired, frustrated... maybe even bored. "So?"

"So, Yoruichi called Mashiro, and guess what?" This was the climax of the story. She didn't have any other tantalizing secrets to keep him from slamming the door in her face.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"I found out that the rug used to be in Meiko's room. It was rolled up years ago-not too long after she disappeared-and nobody even looked at it again until Mashiro started remodeling. I think-"

"I know what you think," Ichigo said coolly. "You think there's a good chance that Meiko's blood is on that rug, and you think the coroners in Seireitei can match it to bone marrow he can extract from her skeleton. You know what I think?"

"What?"

He stepped back into his room. "I think you could have waited until morning to tell me about it."

Rukia couldn't stifle the terrible wash of pain his rejection caused her. Neither could she stop herself from grabbing the doorknob.

"Oh, Ichigo, I know you're tired! But can't we just... talk... the way we used to? When we were friends?"

He stared at her bleakly, looking more sad than angry now. "No, we can't." His tone left no room for argument.

Rukia blinked back an unexpected tear. "Please Ichigo! I hate this tension between us! I miss you!"

His jaw twitched. He didn's say he missed her, too. "I hear you're moving out this weekend. That hardly sounds like you're longing for my company. You really hurt my Aunt's feelings by not telling her up front."

Rukia swallowed hard. "I told her the very day my plans were confirmed. It's not my fault that some old bag beat me to the punch."

Now he positively scowled. "That 'old bag' is my grandmother! You remember-the one who lovingly made your little angel cop?"

He might as well have hit her with a baseball bat. The last thing she'd intended to do was insult his grandmother! "You know why I have to leave so quickly, Ichigo." Rukia's voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "I'm doing it as much for you as for me."

His gaze fell to the floor. "Your living quarters are none of my business, Captain. I don't give a damn where you reside." Again he tried to shut the door.

"You can't have forgotten the friendship we once had, Ichigo," she pleaded, pushing the door open with her foot. Even his anger was better than this! "You can't tell me that you're that fickle a human being. One minute your my colleague, then my friend, you say you want to be my lover and now... you hate me? What should I believe?"

"Believe any damn thing you want! It's got nothing to do with me!"

Rukia pulled back as though he'd hit her. Then she handed back the pizza, knowing she'd never be able to get down a bite. "Forgive me for troubling you, Ichigo."

She was almost to the door before she heard him say bitterly, "Captain?"

She stopped, grateful that he'd called her back, even if he still refused to call her by her name.

"You can't have your cake and eat it, too."

Rukia turned around and faced him. "I'm not asking for a miracle, Ichigo. Just a little civility, a little warmth. When I first came here you treated me like dirt, and I could bear it, because you meant nothing to me and I knew I meant nothing to you. But now that we've shared so much, it kills me when you treat me like I have a disease or something."

For a long moment he was silent. A thousand demons warred on his rugged face. At last he said almost gently, "I'm sorry you're hurting, Captain. I wish I could hep you."

The surrender in his low tone wounded her unbearably-how badly she'd hurt this wonderful man-but it filled her with hope. Rukia took a step toward him again, knowing she had to keep her distance, longing to pull him close.

"Please, Ichigo," she whispered, unable to bide the wrenching pain inside her. "I can't go on like this!"

He jammed both hands deep into his pockets, as though he could not restrain himself from touching her. She waited, aching, while he slowly met her eyes. The anguish she saw there shook her to the core.

"Captain," he hoarsely confessed, "I can't go on any other way."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Thursday afternoon Ichigo was getting ready to go talk to a woman whose store had been robbed-by the crooks in the blue van again-when Rukia poked her head out of her office and called, "Lieutenant? I need you in here."

He moved toward her stiffly, wondering how to keep her at bay this time. Their encounter last night had been nip and tuck. The anger that had kept him going since Christmas had cooled to the ashes of despair.

As he reached the doorway, Rukia whispered, "We've got trouble, Ichigo. For Karakura's sake, try to put aside your hatred of me for the next few minutes. You can always go back to being nasty later."

The plea shocked him. Put so baldly, it made him ashamed of the way he'd been treating Rukia. It also made him wonder about the trouble she now faced. She must be pretty desperate to seek his help.

Ichigo was surprised to discover that the civilian in Rukia's office was a man his own age dressed in a well-cut navy suit and a blue-striped tie. His butterscotch complexion and angular features hinted at some Indian or Hispanic ancestry. His wavy brown hair was clean and shiny, and hung over his equally brown eyes.

"Nice to meet you," Yasutora Sado said pleasantly when Rukia introduced him. As he stood to shake Ichigo's hand, he noticed that the man's impressive height dwarfed him by at least six inches, and Rukia didn't stand a chance being almost two whole feet shorter.

"Likewise." Ichigo was about to ask how he could help the man when he remembered that he was number two on this totem pole. It would not do to snatch power from Rukia's hands.

"Lieutenant, Mr. Sado plans to seek a court order stopping the planned ground-breaking of the new wing of a summer lodge out by the beach. He is concerned that the expansion may encroach on a Mexican burial ground."

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say to that. All his life he'd heard rumors of a Mexican burial ground in the area, but Karakura had an impressive collection of tall tales about its past. Nobody took them seriously.

Unsure of what direction Rukia wanted him to take, he offered, "The original lodge was built fifty years ago, Mr. Sado. Surely if there was a burial ground in the area, someone would have voiced concern then."

Sado shook his head. He'd come armed with intelligence and conviction.

"Someone voiced concern, but no one listened. The Mexicans were invisible to bureaucrats then." His words were quiet, but that along with his deep, powerful voice seemed to lend inches to his already considerable stature. "Now we have laws to protect us. Once again we have people with the will to fight for what is ours."

Ichigo sensed the quiet determination of the man and realized that he would not be easy to brush aside. Oddly enough, he didn't really want to. Hotheaded radicals always made him angry, no matter what their cause, and he'd assumed that Sado was just another one. But now he had to reconsider.

Still, he knew why Rukia was worried. This visit was not an idle act of a renegade. It was a probe, a first step, a symbolic act for a much larger group of people. If Karakura handled Yasutora Sado well, no more might come of it. If somebody botched things badly, there would be hell to pay, with or without proof of a burial ground. It would make no difference to the Mexicans, let alone to the press.

Sado turned back to Rukia. "I don't want to get arrested. I don't want to cause a scene. All I want to do is make sure that no sacred bones of my people are disturbed by this renovation. I want to stop the construction process legally, just long enough to verify that it won't impact the burial ground."

Rukia moved around to her desk, sat down and gestured for the men to do likewise. Both followed suit.

"Mr. Sado, what evidence do you have that there is a Mexican burial ground in that specific area?"

A look of great sorrow passed over his face as he replied, "My Grandfather says there is a burial ground north of Karakura."

Rukia waited. Ichigo watched her closely.

"Does he know for sure that it's on that specific property?" Rukia asked, as though Sado's grandfather had produced voluminous evidence to verify his facts. Ichigo had to admit that when it came to this Mexican, Rukia's sober approach seemed to be more effective than Jushiro's humor.

Sado shook his head. "He is an old man, Captain Kuchiki, and very frail. He has not visited our ancestral land for many years. What he remembers is a cluster of oaks in the shape of a horseshoe. When he sees it, he says he will know. I am just the scout."

Rukia met Ichigo's eyes. For the first time in days, he saw no anger there, no fear. He saw a police Captain who trusted the instincts of her men. "Are there any clusters of oaks in the shape of a horseshoe at the lodge, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Ichigo thought a minute, then shook his head. "No, not that I recall."

"Are you familiar with the land surrounding the lodge?"

"Yes, I am." He didn't see any point in mentioning that three years ago he'd purchased a piece of land in the area on which he planned to build his dream house-a house that he couldn't even design until he found his dream woman and was ready to start a family. He didn't go out there to visit much anymore. Nowadays it represented a dream that seemed to be slipping away from him.

Just like the woman before him.

"The trees are sparse near the buildings, but very dense around the lake. There's a nice meadow or two where we used to have picnics."

Rukia's eyes were still on him, waiting, watching... trusting him. "What else."

"There are six or seven tourist cabins in the area."

Sado was watching him intently now. "I just want to look, sir. If I cannot find anything that resembles a horseshoe of oak trees, then I will know that the burial ground is farther west, or the trees have been cut down." He did not mention the possibility that his grandfather could be wrong.

Now Rukia said carefully, "What you're asking for is carte blanche to examine a great deal of private property without any legal authorization. I'm not certain that all the owners will approve."

Sado's face darkened. A note of bitterness crept into his tightly controlled voice. "I am here to seek legal authorization. I could have come in the night. I could have invaded the privacy of these people who claim to own Mexican land. Instead I came to the police as a law-abiding Japanese citizen." He looked at Ichigo, then back at Rukia. "Most things can be arranged with the right words in advance. Surely these people will let me search for the burial ground if they understand that I mean no harm."

Ichigo knew what the man was really saying- I would prefer to do it legally, but if I can't, I will do it the other way. He seemed too rational to take the risk. Ichigo almost had the feeling that searching for the burial ground was something he did not want to do. He spoke like a man who had no choice.

Sado leaned toward Rukia now, both elbows resting on her desk. In a low, unhappy tone he said, "Captain, please understand. I want no trouble, but I will not turn aside if trouble stands in the way of my duty. I promised my grandfather I would find that horseshoe of oaks and protect the dead who are buried there. He feels it is his duty to his ancestral clan." It was obvious that his grandfather's conviction made it Sado's duty, too.

Rukia studied Sado thoughtfully. "Surely most of your grandfather's clan are long since dead."

"Exactly, Captain," Sado agreed, his brown eyes meeting hers forcefully. "They have no one left to speak for them."

An eerie silence filled the room, a silence that somehow bound the three people of the present with a thousand souls of the past. Ichigo saw Rukia struggle with the problem Sado had tossed in her lap. Her mournful violet eyes met Ichigo's sadly as she realized he was watching her. He had always known how much he missed her. Now, as he thought about her plea for his friendship last night, he realized how much she missed him.

Ichigo had dozens of close friends in Karakura. Rukia didn't have a soul outside the warmth of the boarding house.

She was going to miss casual dinners with Shunsui and Kisuke. She'd even come to enjoy spunky Rangiku. Yoruichi was becoming her dear friend.

And secretly Ichigo still believed that Rukia loved him.

Suddenly he wanted to throw Sado out of the room and seize Rukia in his arms. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, loved her desperately, that he had a little patch of land waiting for the two of them to build a home on. Other men on the force dated profesional women! Jushro Ukitake had encountered no censure when he'd married after his first wife died. Surely-

Rukia's phone rang, abruptly puncturing the silence and interrupting the bizarre trail of Ichigo's thoughts. She answered on the first ring, gave a short reply, then stood up. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, Mr. Sado, I have an emergency. Lieutenant Kurosaki, please make whatever quiet arrangements you can to help Mr. Sado find his burial ground."

Ichigo was surprised by the trust she'd placed in him; it was the first time she'd tacitly admitted that he knew things she didn't about Karakura's land and people. Bit by bit Rukia had learned to trust Ichigo's instincts, but she'd never before acknowledged that he could, in his own way, be more effective than she in grappling with a given problem.

As Rukia left, Sado watched Ichigo with knowing eyes. "Well, Lieutenant-"

"Just call me Ichigo. I'm not really one for formalities."

"Ichigo, then, she is the boss, but you and I both know that you are the only one who can help me. This is your town. These are your people. You can ask them for a favor. The Captain can only order them to comply."

It was true, but Ichigo felt a curious need to uphold Rukia's authority. "She outranks me, Chad-"

"My name is Yasutora not-"

"But you look more like a Chad to me. Anyway, I know it may be hard for you to imagine that a woman would hold such a position, but-"

"It is obviously hard for you to imagine, Ichigo, but it is easy for me."

Ichigo was taken aback. "Why is it easier for you?"

Chad chuckled, a warm and happy sound that made Ichigo hope he could get the owners of the cabins out by the lake to let him search for the horseshoe of oak trees. "When I look at Captain Kuchiki," Chad explained, "I see a competent police officer. When you look at her, her uniform keeps sliding off."

Ichigo's jaw dropped. He was too surprised to lie. "How did you know?! Not that anything's ever happened-"

"Oh, I think a great deal has happened," Chad corrected him. "At least in your heart." He stood up and headed toward the door, surprising Ichigo by handing him a respectable-looking business card with an admonition to call when he'd made the arrangements. "I don't know why the two of you are trying to hide what is obvious to a man with keen eyes. Everybody will know the lay of the land soon enough." He shook Ichigo's hand as he teased, "If I felt that way about a woman, I would take her back to my place and keep her there permanently."

Ichigo just scowled at him. "Shut up, Chad."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

It was about three o'clock on Friday when Renji Abarai poked his head into Rukia's office and said, "Captain Kuchiki? Omaeda and Hisagi just found something kind of odd."

"Odd, how?" she asked, realizing with a curious sense of pleasure that his tone sounded almost friendly and respectful. In the beginning, the sergeant had opposed her almost as vigorously as Ichigo had. Nowadays Renji seemed pleased that she frequently turned to him.

With Ichigo barely speaking to her, Rukia didn't have much choice. Orihime still walked on eggshells around her, though since Christmas Nanao didn't seem to be giving her such a wide berth. Marechiyo Omaeda had lost so much weight that Rukia had risked telling him how great he looked, and he'd grinned from ear to ear as he'd reported he'd had to buy some uniforms in a smaller size. The other men were respectful but restrained in her presence. She couldn't tell whether any of them suspected what was going on in her heart.

As she thought about the way Ichigo had looked at her during their meeting with Yasutora Sado, she wondered what was going on in his heart. They had seemed perfectly in sync regarding the Mexican's plea.

Yasutora Sado was the sort of man who did not forget the values he'd been taught by his family, the sort of man to whom integrity was law. Why couldn't I fall for a hunk like Chad? Rukia challenged herself. He's handsome. He's deep. He's determined but respectful. The only thing wrong with him is that he's not Ichigo.

But that was just the point. She couldn't fall in love with a man who did not move her profoundly, and she didn't dare yield to one who was ready to claim her soul. Ever since she'd met Ichigo, she'd felt her tough self-control slipping away from her. If he'd been a different sort of man, he could have-would have-destroyed her career by now.

"It's a suitcase," said Renji, snapping Rukia back to reality. "Looks like it's fallen out of a car or maybe been tossed."

She watched him closely. "So?"

His eyes narrowed. "The clothes inside are totally rotted. Disintegrated. Like they've been soaked and left to molder in there for a hundred years. And here's the corker. It's got brass initials-M.A.K.-on the side."

"M.A.K.," she repeated. It took a moment, but then Rukia followed his line of thought. "What was Meiko Kuna's middle name, Sergeant?"

He lifted his hands and grinned. "Ai."

Rukia grinned back. "Where is it?"

"In the evidence room. We were afraid to mess with the insides much. Everything's so fragile."

"Good work, Sergeant," she praised him sincerely, pleased to see him glow. "Call Lieutenant Kurosakai and ask him to drop by and check it out when he gets a chance, would you?" It was Ichigo's day off, but Rukia knew he wouldn't mind coming in. Besides, it would be a lot smarter to discuss the suitcase with him during the busy hour when the shifts were changing than in the isolated danger zone of her last night in their mutual home.

It took Renji a while to locate Ichigo, who showed up at the station house about seven. He went directly to the evidence room to examine the suitcase, then popped in to see Rukia.

Under his ski jacket he was wearing his usual off-duty clothes-jeans and a sweatshirt-but his skin had a vigorous glow that had been noticeably absent lately. He almost looked happy. Rukia wanted to ask him how he spent his spare time these days, but she knew it was a personal question... which made it off-limits. She certainly couldn't ask him if her greatest fear was true-that he might have found somebody else to take her place.

"Let me show it to Seno, Captain," Ichigo suggested. "I think there's a good chance it's Meiko Kuna's. It looks like it used to be a very expensive piece of luggage. The clothes aren't fit to be sold now, but they were once very stylish. There's a fancy hat with gold trim that I'm sure I've heard somebody mention before."

Rukia had dressed up in a crisp black suit today because she'd had to make a presentation at a local service club's lunchtime meeting. As she met Ichgo's eyes, she realized that she was searching for some sign of admiration for her posh look, and after a tense moment, she got it. Ichigo didn't say anything out loud, but his gaze took in her entire outfit, from her ruffled blouse to her fashionable boots, before he nodded once in silent approval.

Suddenly Rukia felt delicate and pretty-a warning, if there ever was one, that she should quickly send Ichigo on his errand. Still, she was temped to go along with him to judge Seno's reaction to the suitcase herself.

Is that really why you want to go, Rukia? an inner voice taunted. Or are you simply losing the will to resist him?

"If this is Meiko's suitcase, it would lend credence to Seno's claim that she left a note and was planning to leave him," Ichigo said thoughtfully.

"A note nobody ever saw," Rukia pointed out, struggling to keep her mind on business. "An intention she never mentioned to anybody else."

"A logical intention if she was playing around, Rukia."

Her eyes flashed up as she heard her name; it was the first time Ichigo had called her anything but "Captain" since the night he'd aroused her to the edge of no return. Struggling to forget the feel of his hands, Rukia said, "If she was about to leave him for another man-not a bad theory, considering what we know of her-that only gives Seno a better motive for murder. He could have killed her and faked the note."

"He couldn't have faked the suitcase. It's been out in that garage for a decade, all right. Nobody can fake that sort of mold and decay."

"Oh, I don't doubt that it's been out there all this time. But who's to say Meiko Kuna packed that suitcase 11 years ago. Seno could have done it to back up his story that she ran away. Think about it. It's possible."

Ichigo took a deep breath. Anything's possible, Bunnyhead, his eyes seemed to say. You're the one who wrote these awful rules. You're the one who can change them.

Rukia told herself she was imagining his mute message. They'd put all this behind them, hadn't they?

"It's possible that somebody else packed it, too," Ichigo continued prosaically. "Somebody other than Seno could have known that Meiko was planning to leave him and could have used the same logic to stage a cover-up when he killed her."

"Or she."

To Rukia's surprise, he gave her a small smile, that damned dimpled smile that always stunned her. In spite of her firm resolutions, her heart did a tiny backflip, and in the emptiness of her secret woman's place she felt a hot rush of awareness of what she'd sacrificed when she'd turned this magnificent man away.

"If Meiko had a lover, he might have been married, too." Rukia raised her eyebrows. "Hell hath no fury, and all that."

"Anything's possible," Ichigo agreed, leaning almost casually against her desk. You and I, for instance. Haven't you had enough time to change your mind?

Fiercely Rukia told herself she was imagining his unspoken pleas tonight. Surely he wouldn't try to seduce her again after all this time!

Rukia couldn't put her finger on it, but there was a change in him this evening. He seemed curiously content. Not exactly smug or hopeful, but somehow satisfied. His face wasn't marred by those deep scowl lines she'd grown accustomed to seeing. Maybe he wasn't seeing somebody else. Maybe he was just relieved because she was moving out tomorrow.

As she studied his broad chest and tough-tender eyes, Rukia sadly acknowleded that it would take a lot more than a change of lodging for her to get over Ichigo. She could change jobs, change professions, change countries, and it wouldn't make much difference. He'd burrowed his way deep into her heart where no man had ever gone before, and he was hunkered down to stay. What she'd give to find a way to have room in her life for police work and Ichigo Kurosaki at the same time! He wasn't just a passing fancy, a mere temptation to indulge in a hot-

"Look, Rukia, I don't know what you've got in mind."

"About what?"

Her alarm seemed to surprise him. "About confronting Seno. Do you think it's important that you go by yourself?"

"I... intended to send you, Lieutenant," she told him honestly. "I once suspected that your intimacy with the family would impede this investigation, but I've come to see that it might be a useful key to solving it."

Ichigo looked touched. "I'm honored, Captain." His voice dropped a notch as he added, "Might I suggest that we go together when you wrap things up here? Even when we don't plan it, we seem to be quite effective playing good cop/bad cop. I think that might work to our advantage in this situation."

Rukia stood up, met his eyes, then glanced away as she realized how clearly he could read her feelings. She was weakening again, wounded by the vision of moving to an empty house when they'd once shared such happy times in their tiny second-floor home. It was always dangerous to be alone with Ichigo... doubly so on this last night. But how much worse could a simple car ride be than sleeping next door to him every night, aching for the feel of his hands on her breasts?

Gingerly she offered, "I guess we do make a pretty good team."

Rukia knew it was a mistake the minute the words were out of her mouth. Ichigo gave her that crazy, dimpled smile-broad and happy this time-as he drawled, "We do, Ru. We make a damn fine twosome."

His eyes told her he wasn't talking about police work. Her pulse told her he had something else in mind tonight.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Ichigo drove up to the Kunas house at seven-forty-five with Rukia by his side. He'd spent most of the afternoon secretly setting up his surprise at her new home. Chitose's neighbor's son had already moved all of the elderly lady's furniture into storage, which meant that Rukia expected to move into an empty house. In her desperation to get away from Ichigo, she'd actually planned to spend her first night on the floor in a sleeping bag. She'd told Yoruichi that she intended to purchase furniture over the weekend. Ichigo told himself he was just saving her a little time and money.

But his selections from the Uraharas' basement had not been made at random, and the extra touches he'd added would have been a surprise to his aunt. Chad had probably not been serious when he'd suggested that Ichigo take Rukia back to his place, but the Mexican's comment had started him thinking-not about the dead ends that were closed off to him, but about the options neither he nor Rukia had yet considered. Over and over again Ichigo had thought about their situation- the sense of home they'd once experienced in their virtual shared suite, the incredible emptiness that would assail him when she moved out tomorrow, the loneliness that would swallow her up in that vacant house tomorrow night. And in the wee small hours of the morning, Ichigo had suddenly realized that he had to find a way to keep her by his side.

If he couldn't take Rukia to his place, he'd take his place to Rukia.

He was glad to have some time alone with her tonight to spell out his long-term plans. Such openness would probably be a mistake, but some mistakes were unavoidable. And just about any mistake was preferable to losing Rukia altogether.

Ichigo carried the decrepit suitcase up the well-shoveled walk and rang the bell, feeling guilty about coming to Seno's house as a cop in pursuit of evidence that might ultimately convict him. Rukia stood perfectly still beside him but did not speak. She was so close he could smell her clean soapy scent. So close he could have leaned down and kissed her if she'd turned her head.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her desperately! But somehow he found the strength to face the other way.

"Why, Ichigo!" Mashiro said as she opened the door, her kind hazel eyes lacking their usual warmth when she spotted Rukia. "What a pleasure to see you."

"Good to see you, too, Mashiro. You remember Captain Kuchiki?"

Now Mashiro's eyes were definitely guarded. "Of course, Captain. Please come in-and let me take your coats."

After divesting them of their winter wear, they walked silently to the living room. Ichigo was still carrying the suitcase, but Mashiro didn't seem to have noticed it.

"Is your father here, Mrs. Muguruma?" Rukia asked in a clipped tone.

"Well, yes, he is. He's upstairs reading at the moment."

"Would you please call him down here?"

Mashiro licked her lips. "Well, of course I can, Captain. Is something wrong?" Her worried gaze flickered back to Ichigo.

He felt terrible. He cared for this woman. He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to tell Rukia not to play bad cop.

"Please go fetch him, Mashiro," he said gently. "This won't take long."

"You're not going to arr..." She stopped, horrified at her own words.

She hadn't said it, not outright, but Ichigo knew exactly where her thoughts were heading, and he was sure that Rukia knew it, too.

At that moment Seno appeared at the top of the stairs, waved a cheery hello and came on down. He was a strong man, still clinging to the tail end of his prime. Mashiro turned to face him, visibly trembling. "Ichigo's here, Dad," she said. "And Captain Kuchiki wants to talk to you."

Ichigo watched the same look pass over Seno's face that he'd seen on Mashiro's when she'd first caught sight of Rukia on the porch. It wasn't the look of guilt, exactly, but it was most certainly more than everyday fear.

"We found this suitcase on the outskirts of town today, Mr. Kuna," Rukia said in her sternest voice. "We think it might have belonged to your wife. We'd like you to identify it."

To Ichigo's intense relief, Seno's face relaxed. Whether he recognized the suitcase or not, he clearly did not think it held any secrets that could be used against him. He made no comment as Ichigo laid it flat and opened it, revealing the moldy remnants of leather shoes, silk blouses, and a dramatic hat with gold trim.

It was Mashiro, much to Ichigo's despair, who suddenly covered her face with both hands and began to cry. She'd been 16 years old when she'd last saw her mother, but it was obvious that she still held that hat in some secret part of her memory. Ichigo wondered what else she remembered... and what she was trying so hard to forget.

AN

FINALLY! That took me forever since I'm all sick, and it's hard to concentrate and stuff. But still, I think it turned out okay. I know a lot happened in this chapter so feel free to drop any questions you might have involving the plotline in your reviews and I'll try to get back to you.

AN

Happy Hispanic Heritage month everyone! Blame school for my lateness. However, this lengthy chapter should make up for it. I'm pleased to say that Chad will be making an appearance, too. Not much else to say except the usual thanks for keeping up with this story.

Disclaimer-I own nothing.

Warning-Beware of some people (Ichigo and Rukia's) dirty thoughts.

Chapter Ten

Yoruichi answered the phone on the fourth ring. She'd called out for Kisuke to get it before she remembered that he was in the family room with Ichigo and Toshiro, who were glued to the television while one brawny bunch of cleated fellows stomped over another brawny set. Normally it was a happy occasion for the group. Yoruichi, who had no interest in football unless someone close to her was playing, spent the time preparing an enormous Sunday dinner.

But nobody was very happy in the family room today, because Ichigo had been acting like a bear with a sore paw ever since Christmas. That was a good two weeks ago, and the holidays were now behind them. But whatever had happened between Ichigo and Rukia had clearly not been resolved.

Not once since then had Yoruichi seen the two of them together. Poor Rukia looked pale and Ichigo looked like death warmed over. Both of them had parried her attempts to get them to share their feelings. It was obvious that they couldn't go on this way.

"Hello dear." It was Yomi Shihoin's cheery voice on the phone. "I just heard a bit of news I thought you should know. I hope it won't be too distressing."

"Oh?"

"You know that young lady you've got staying with you? The one who plays cops and robbers with Ichigo?"

Yoruichi knew Rukia would shudder at the description, but she was too interested in Yomi's gossip-and a little bit concerned-to correct her mother's mistake. "Yes?"

"Well, Sajin Komamura was over here this morning when he brought Chitose back from church. He's such a good son-in-law, you know. Every Sunday-"

"Mother, what did Sajin say?" Yoruichi was growing worried now. Sajin was a Realtor. If Rukia had been to see him...

"She called him on Christmas Eve. Told him to find her a cute little house to buy or rent as soon as possible. Chitose told me that Sajin says Rukia sounded downright desperate to get out of your house. I know there can't be anything wrong with your hospitality, dear. I imagine she's had some sort of lover's spat with Ichigo."

Yoruichi figured that was the understatement of the century. "Has Sajin had any luck?" she asked. "We don't have that many small houses for sale in Karakura."

"No, we don't. But Chitose's next-door neighbor had a stroke last month and may be here to stay. Sajin got her to agree to lease the house to Rukia with an option to buy if she can't go home in a year."

Yoruichi closed her eyes as she waited for the news that would break Ichigo's heart.

"The lease begins on January fifteenth. She'll be moving out next weekend."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Aunt Yoruichi was gentle when she told Ichigo the news, but he still wanted to bang his head against a wall. Oh, he knew Rukia had done him a favor. The Uraharas were his people. She was the one who had to leave. Hadn't he told her that the night she'd moved in? How he'd hated her then! Now he lay awake, night after night, listening to Rukia toss and turn in the bed she'd so savagely denied him. The days were even worse, when keeping the crudest emotional distance from her seemed to be the only way Ichigo could survive. If he gave an inch, he'd be on his knees to her, begging her to surrender to him all over again.

If the problem had merely been sex, he could have tripled his workout time and found some way to ignore it. But it was so much more than that. He ached for Rukia in a way he could not explain, because he'd never hurt for a woman quite this way before. He had grown accustomed to living with her, side by side, day by day, in a quiet kind of marriage that went far beyond the delights of sex or the demands of the job. It was pure hell to have her so near and yet so brutally far away.

Yes, he was glad she was going. But dammit, why did his grandmother's news make him feel like some giant fish speared through the heart?

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

On Wednesday night, Rukia was still awake when Ichigo came in after his late shift. She was always awake, always listening, always worried about how much she'd hurt him, worried about how much he'd hurt her. And, because he was a cop, even in a little place like Karakkura, she was always worried that something might happen to him.

There didn't seem to be any solution to their problem. At first, when Ichigo became so stiff and angry, Rukia had almost been relieved. Anything had seemed easier than fending off his incredibly potent kisses. But over time the relief had faded and the pain was growing worse. Rukia was once more starting to seek some magical middle ground where they could each give some kind of platonic friendship without unbearable guilt and lust.

She was lying in bed, fighting a twinge of recurrent pain in her scarred left shoulder, when she heard Ichigo's footsteps on the stairs around 1-00 A.M. The tantalizing aroma of pepperoni wafted through the cracks under the door. Following her instincts, Rukia jumped out of bed, taking a moment to pull on jeans and a t-shirt. After their previous middle-of-the-night fiasco, the last thing she wanted to do was go to his room in her bathrobe.

Rukia reached Ichigo's door just as he was closing it. He spotted her and opened the door a crack, scowling. "What do you want? Trouble at the station house?"

She shook her head, hating his dry indifference. "I woke up to the smell of pizza," she declared in forced light tones. "The temptation is killing me. Got enough for two?"

Ichigo looked surprised, but nonetheless tore off a couple of joined sheets from the roll of paper towels under his arm. Without a single wasted motion, he tugged three pieces of pizza out of the box, laid them on the paper towels and thrust them in her direction. Then he asked coldly, "Is there anything else that won't wait until I'm back on duty, Captain?"

Gravely she met his eyes, struggling for words to break the impasse. "When my father worked swing shift, he never could go right to sleep. He liked to watch TV or read for a while. He loved it if I was still awake when he came in. Then we'd sit and talk about all kinds of things."

A wash of pain darkened Ichigo's weary features. Rukia could see his stubbled jaw tighten.

He hasn't forgotten the passion that singed us the one time we broke all the rules. She hugged the thought to herself. He didn't lie when he confessed his love for me.

Darkly he warned, "I'm not your father, Captain." He started to close the door again.

"Ichigo-" he opened the door once more "-I wanted to tell you about some more evidence I found pertaining to Meiko Kuna's death."

His eyes narrowed. "Evidence?"

"I think so." Actually, Rukia wasn't sure whether she'd found any evidence or not, but her serendipitous discovery might keep him listening for a few more minutes. "Do you remember that I spilled some punch on that Oriental rug at the Kunas' house on Christmas Eve?"

He winced as though the memory were one he'd like to forget. "I remember."

"Well, by the time I thought to ask Yoruichi who I should discuss it with, Mashiro had already sent it to the cleaners. So I called the cleaners to intercept the bill, and as soon as I mentioned the spill, this guy-"

"Hanataro Yamada."

"Right, Hanataro Yamada. He said that he'd had to send the rug to Seireitei for special treatment. The punch was no problem, but it would cost extra for the blood. And I said, 'What blood?' because I didn't remember anybody getting hurt while I was there."

"Nobody got hurt before I left, either."

"Exactly. Nobody got hurt at all. I asked Yoruichi that after he told me that he thought the blood was really old and dried up."

Ichigo looked tired, frustrated... maybe even bored. "So?"

"So, Yoruichi called Mashiro, and guess what?" This was the climax of the story. She didn't have any other tantalizing secrets to keep him from slamming the door in her face.

"What?" he asked irritably.

"I found out that the rug used to be in Meiko's room. It was rolled up years ago-not too long after she disappeared-and nobody even looked at it again until Mashiro started remodeling. I think-"

"I know what you think," Ichigo said coolly. "You think there's a good chance that Meiko's blood is on that rug, and you think the coroners in Seireitei can match it to bone marrow he can extract from her skeleton. You know what I think?"

"What?"

He stepped back into his room. "I think you could have waited until morning to tell me about it."

Rukia couldn't stifle the terrible wash of pain his rejection caused her. Neither could she stop herself from grabbing the doorknob.

"Oh, Ichigo, I know you're tired! But can't we just... talk... the way we used to? When we were friends?"

He stared at her bleakly, looking more sad than angry now. "No, we can't." His tone left no room for argument.

Rukia blinked back an unexpected tear. "Please Ichigo! I hate this tension between us! I miss you!"

His jaw twitched. He didn's say he missed her, too. "I hear you're moving out this weekend. That hardly sounds like you're longing for my company. You really hurt my Aunt's feelings by not telling her up front."

Rukia swallowed hard. "I told her the very day my plans were confirmed. It's not my fault that some old bag beat me to the punch."

Now he positively scowled. "That 'old bag' is my grandmother! You remember-the one who lovingly made your little angel cop?"

He might as well have hit her with a baseball bat. The last thing she'd intended to do was insult his grandmother! "You know why I have to leave so quickly, Ichigo." Rukia's voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "I'm doing it as much for you as for me."

His gaze fell to the floor. "Your living quarters are none of my business, Captain. I don't give a damn where you reside." Again he tried to shut the door.

"You can't have forgotten the friendship we once had, Ichigo," she pleaded, pushing the door open with her foot. Even his anger was better than this! "You can't tell me that you're that fickle a human being. One minute your my colleague, then my friend, you say you want to be my lover and now... you hate me? What should I believe?"

"Believe any damn thing you want! It's got nothing to do with me!"

Rukia pulled back as though he'd hit her. Then she handed back the pizza, knowing she'd never be able to get down a bite. "Forgive me for troubling you, Ichigo."

She was almost to the door before she heard him say bitterly, "Captain?"

She stopped, grateful that he'd called her back, even if he still refused to call her by her name.

"You can't have your cake and eat it, too."

Rukia turned around and faced him. "I'm not asking for a miracle, Ichigo. Just a little civility, a little warmth. When I first came here you treated me like dirt, and I could bear it, because you meant nothing to me and I knew I meant nothing to you. But now that we've shared so much, it kills me when you treat me like I have a disease or something."

For a long moment he was silent. A thousand demons warred on his rugged face. At last he said almost gently, "I'm sorry you're hurting, Captain. I wish I could hep you."

The surrender in his low tone wounded her unbearably-how badly she'd hurt this wonderful man-but it filled her with hope. Rukia took a step toward him again, knowing she had to keep her distance, longing to pull him close.

"Please, Ichigo," she whispered, unable to bide the wrenching pain inside her. "I can't go on like this!"

He jammed both hands deep into his pockets, as though he could not restrain himself from touching her. She waited, aching, while he slowly met her eyes. The anguish she saw there shook her to the core.

"Captain," he hoarsely confessed, "I can't go on any other way."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Thursday afternoon Ichigo was getting ready to go talk to a woman whose store had been robbed-by the crooks in the blue van again-when Rukia poked her head out of her office and called, "Lieutenant? I need you in here."

He moved toward her stiffly, wondering how to keep her at bay this time. Their encounter last night had been nip and tuck. The anger that had kept him going since Christmas had cooled to the ashes of despair.

As he reached the doorway, Rukia whispered, "We've got trouble, Ichigo. For Karakura's sake, try to put aside your hatred of me for the next few minutes. You can always go back to being nasty later."

The plea shocked him. Put so baldly, it made him ashamed of the way he'd been treating Rukia. It also made him wonder about the trouble she now faced. She must be pretty desperate to seek his help.

Ichigo was surprised to discover that the civilian in Rukia's office was a man his own age dressed in a well-cut navy suit and a blue-striped tie. His butterscotch complexion and angular features hinted at some Indian or Hispanic ancestry. His wavy brown hair was clean and shiny, and hung over his equally brown eyes.

"Nice to meet you," Yasutora Sado said pleasantly when Rukia introduced him. As he stood to shake Ichigo's hand, he noticed that the man's impressive height dwarfed him by at least six inches, and Rukia didn't stand a chance being almost two whole feet shorter.

"Likewise." Ichigo was about to ask how he could help the man when he remembered that he was number two on this totem pole. It would not do to snatch power from Rukia's hands.

"Lieutenant, Mr. Sado plans to seek a court order stopping the planned ground-breaking of the new wing of a summer lodge out by the beach. He is concerned that the expansion may encroach on a Mexican burial ground."

Ichigo wasn't sure what to say to that. All his life he'd heard rumors of a Mexican burial ground in the area, but Karakura had an impressive collection of tall tales about its past. Nobody took them seriously.

Unsure of what direction Rukia wanted him to take, he offered, "The original lodge was built fifty years ago, Mr. Sado. Surely if there was a burial ground in the area, someone would have voiced concern then."

Sado shook his head. He'd come armed with intelligence and conviction.

"Someone voiced concern, but no one listened. The Mexicans were invisible to bureaucrats then." His words were quiet, but that along with his deep, powerful voice seemed to lend inches to his already considerable stature. "Now we have laws to protect us. Once again we have people with the will to fight for what is ours."

Ichigo sensed the quiet determination of the man and realized that he would not be easy to brush aside. Oddly enough, he didn't really want to. Hotheaded radicals always made him angry, no matter what their cause, and he'd assumed that Sado was just another one. But now he had to reconsider.

Still, he knew why Rukia was worried. This visit was not an idle act of a renegade. It was a probe, a first step, a symbolic act for a much larger group of people. If Karakura handled Yasutora Sado well, no more might come of it. If somebody botched things badly, there would be hell to pay, with or without proof of a burial ground. It would make no difference to the Mexicans, let alone to the press.

Sado turned back to Rukia. "I don't want to get arrested. I don't want to cause a scene. All I want to do is make sure that no sacred bones of my people are disturbed by this renovation. I want to stop the construction process legally, just long enough to verify that it won't impact the burial ground."

Rukia moved around to her desk, sat down and gestured for the men to do likewise. Both followed suit.

"Mr. Sado, what evidence do you have that there is a Mexican burial ground in that specific area?"

A look of great sorrow passed over his face as he replied, "My Grandfather says there is a burial ground north of Karakura."

Rukia waited. Ichigo watched her closely.

"Does he know for sure that it's on that specific property?" Rukia asked, as though Sado's grandfather had produced voluminous evidence to verify his facts. Ichigo had to admit that when it came to this Mexican, Rukia's sober approach seemed to be more effective than Jushiro's humor.

Sado shook his head. "He is an old man, Captain Kuchiki, and very frail. He has not visited our ancestral land for many years. What he remembers is a cluster of oaks in the shape of a horseshoe. When he sees it, he says he will know. I am just the scout."

Rukia met Ichigo's eyes. For the first time in days, he saw no anger there, no fear. He saw a police Captain who trusted the instincts of her men. "Are there any clusters of oaks in the shape of a horseshoe at the lodge, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Ichigo thought a minute, then shook his head. "No, not that I recall."

"Are you familiar with the land surrounding the lodge?"

"Yes, I am." He didn't see any point in mentioning that three years ago he'd purchased a piece of land in the area on which he planned to build his dream house-a house that he couldn't even design until he found his dream woman and was ready to start a family. He didn't go out there to visit much anymore. Nowadays it represented a dream that seemed to be slipping away from him.

Just like the woman before him.

"The trees are sparse near the buildings, but very dense around the lake. There's a nice meadow or two where we used to have picnics."

Rukia's eyes were still on him, waiting, watching... trusting him. "What else."

"There are six or seven tourist cabins in the area."

Sado was watching him intently now. "I just want to look, sir. If I cannot find anything that resembles a horseshoe of oak trees, then I will know that the burial ground is farther west, or the trees have been cut down." He did not mention the possibility that his grandfather could be wrong.

Now Rukia said carefully, "What you're asking for is carte blanche to examine a great deal of private property without any legal authorization. I'm not certain that all the owners will approve."

Sado's face darkened. A note of bitterness crept into his tightly controlled voice. "I am here to seek legal authorization. I could have come in the night. I could have invaded the privacy of these people who claim to own Mexican land. Instead I came to the police as a law-abiding Japanese citizen." He looked at Ichigo, then back at Rukia. "Most things can be arranged with the right words in advance. Surely these people will let me search for the burial ground if they understand that I mean no harm."

Ichigo knew what the man was really saying- I would prefer to do it legally, but if I can't, I will do it the other way. He seemed too rational to take the risk. Ichigo almost had the feeling that searching for the burial ground was something he did not want to do. He spoke like a man who had no choice.

Sado leaned toward Rukia now, both elbows resting on her desk. In a low, unhappy tone he said, "Captain, please understand. I want no trouble, but I will not turn aside if trouble stands in the way of my duty. I promised my grandfather I would find that horseshoe of oaks and protect the dead who are buried there. He feels it is his duty to his ancestral clan." It was obvious that his grandfather's conviction made it Sado's duty, too.

Rukia studied Sado thoughtfully. "Surely most of your grandfather's clan are long since dead."

"Exactly, Captain," Sado agreed, his brown eyes meeting hers forcefully. "They have no one left to speak for them."

An eerie silence filled the room, a silence that somehow bound the three people of the present with a thousand souls of the past. Ichigo saw Rukia struggle with the problem Sado had tossed in her lap. Her mournful violet eyes met Ichigo's sadly as she realized he was watching her. He had always known how much he missed her. Now, as he thought about her plea for his friendship last night, he realized how much she missed him.

Ichigo had dozens of close friends in Karakura. Rukia didn't have a soul outside the warmth of the boarding house.

She was going to miss casual dinners with Shunsui and Kisuke. She'd even come to enjoy spunky Rangiku. Yoruichi was becoming her dear friend.

And secretly Ichigo still believed that Rukia loved him.

Suddenly he wanted to throw Sado out of the room and seize Rukia in his arms. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, loved her desperately, that he had a little patch of land waiting for the two of them to build a home on. Other men on the force dated profesional women! Jushro Ukitake had encountered no censure when he'd married after his first wife died. Surely-

Rukia's phone rang, abruptly puncturing the silence and interrupting the bizarre trail of Ichigo's thoughts. She answered on the first ring, gave a short reply, then stood up. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, Mr. Sado, I have an emergency. Lieutenant Kurosaki, please make whatever quiet arrangements you can to help Mr. Sado find his burial ground."

Ichigo was surprised by the trust she'd placed in him; it was the first time she'd tacitly admitted that he knew things she didn't about Karakura's land and people. Bit by bit Rukia had learned to trust Ichigo's instincts, but she'd never before acknowledged that he could, in his own way, be more effective than she in grappling with a given problem.

As Rukia left, Sado watched Ichigo with knowing eyes. "Well, Lieutenant-"

"Just call me Ichigo. I'm not really one for formalities."

"Ichigo, then, she is the boss, but you and I both know that you are the only one who can help me. This is your town. These are your people. You can ask them for a favor. The Captain can only order them to comply."

It was true, but Ichigo felt a curious need to uphold Rukia's authority. "She outranks me, Chad-"

"My name is Yasutora not-"

"But you look more like a Chad to me. Anyway, I know it may be hard for you to imagine that a woman would hold such a position, but-"

"It is obviously hard for you to imagine, Ichigo, but it is easy for me."

Ichigo was taken aback. "Why is it easier for you?"

Chad chuckled, a warm and happy sound that made Ichigo hope he could get the owners of the cabins out by the lake to let him search for the horseshoe of oak trees. "When I look at Captain Kuchiki," Chad explained, "I see a competent police officer. When you look at her, her uniform keeps sliding off."

Ichigo's jaw dropped. He was too surprised to lie. "How did you know?! Not that anything's ever happened-"

"Oh, I think a great deal has happened," Chad corrected him. "At least in your heart." He stood up and headed toward the door, surprising Ichigo by handing him a respectable-looking business card with an admonition to call when he'd made the arrangements. "I don't know why the two of you are trying to hide what is obvious to a man with keen eyes. Everybody will know the lay of the land soon enough." He shook Ichigo's hand as he teased, "If I felt that way about a woman, I would take her back to my place and keep her there permanently."

Ichigo just scowled at him. "Shut up, Chad."

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

It was about three o'clock on Friday when Renji Abarai poked his head into Rukia's office and said, "Captain Kuchiki? Omaeda and Hisagi just found something kind of odd."

"Odd, how?" she asked, realizing with a curious sense of pleasure that his tone sounded almost friendly and respectful. In the beginning, the sergeant had opposed her almost as vigorously as Ichigo had. Nowadays Renji seemed pleased that she frequently turned to him.

With Ichigo barely speaking to her, Rukia didn't have much choice. Orihime still walked on eggshells around her, though since Christmas Nanao didn't seem to be giving her such a wide berth. Marechiyo Omaeda had lost so much weight that Rukia had risked telling him how great he looked, and he'd grinned from ear to ear as he'd reported he'd had to buy some uniforms in a smaller size. The other men were respectful but restrained in her presence. She couldn't tell whether any of them suspected what was going on in her heart.

As she thought about the way Ichigo had looked at her during their meeting with Yasutora Sado, she wondered what was going on in his heart. They had seemed perfectly in sync regarding the Mexican's plea.

Yasutora Sado was the sort of man who did not forget the values he'd been taught by his family, the sort of man to whom integrity was law. Why couldn't I fall for a hunk like Chad? Rukia challenged herself. He's handsome. He's deep. He's determined but respectful. The only thing wrong with him is that he's not Ichigo.

But that was just the point. She couldn't fall in love with a man who did not move her profoundly, and she didn't dare yield to one who was ready to claim her soul. Ever since she'd met Ichigo, she'd felt her tough self-control slipping away from her. If he'd been a different sort of man, he could have-would have-destroyed her career by now.

"It's a suitcase," said Renji, snapping Rukia back to reality. "Looks like it's fallen out of a car or maybe been tossed."

She watched him closely. "So?"

His eyes narrowed. "The clothes inside are totally rotted. Disintegrated. Like they've been soaked and left to molder in there for a hundred years. And here's the corker. It's got brass initials-M.A.K.-on the side."

"M.A.K.," she repeated. It took a moment, but then Rukia followed his line of thought. "What was Meiko Kuna's middle name, Sergeant?"

He lifted his hands and grinned. "Ai."

Rukia grinned back. "Where is it?"

"In the evidence room. We were afraid to mess with the insides much. Everything's so fragile."

"Good work, Sergeant," she praised him sincerely, pleased to see him glow. "Call Lieutenant Kurosakai and ask him to drop by and check it out when he gets a chance, would you?" It was Ichigo's day off, but Rukia knew he wouldn't mind coming in. Besides, it would be a lot smarter to discuss the suitcase with him during the busy hour when the shifts were changing than in the isolated danger zone of her last night in their mutual home.

It took Renji a while to locate Ichigo, who showed up at the station house about seven. He went directly to the evidence room to examine the suitcase, then popped in to see Rukia.

Under his ski jacket he was wearing his usual off-duty clothes-jeans and a sweatshirt-but his skin had a vigorous glow that had been noticeably absent lately. He almost looked happy. Rukia wanted to ask him how he spent his spare time these days, but she knew it was a personal question... which made it off-limits. She certainly couldn't ask him if her greatest fear was true-that he might have found somebody else to take her place.

"Let me show it to Seno, Captain," Ichigo suggested. "I think there's a good chance it's Meiko Kuna's. It looks like it used to be a very expensive piece of luggage. The clothes aren't fit to be sold now, but they were once very stylish. There's a fancy hat with gold trim that I'm sure I've heard somebody mention before."

Rukia had dressed up in a crisp black suit today because she'd had to make a presentation at a local service club's lunchtime meeting. As she met Ichgo's eyes, she realized that she was searching for some sign of admiration for her posh look, and after a tense moment, she got it. Ichigo didn't say anything out loud, but his gaze took in her entire outfit, from her ruffled blouse to her fashionable boots, before he nodded once in silent approval.

Suddenly Rukia felt delicate and pretty-a warning, if there ever was one, that she should quickly send Ichigo on his errand. Still, she was temped to go along with him to judge Seno's reaction to the suitcase herself.

Is that really why you want to go, Rukia? an inner voice taunted. Or are you simply losing the will to resist him?

"If this is Meiko's suitcase, it would lend credence to Seno's claim that she left a note and was planning to leave him," Ichigo said thoughtfully.

"A note nobody ever saw," Rukia pointed out, struggling to keep her mind on business. "An intention she never mentioned to anybody else."

"A logical intention if she was playing around, Rukia."

Her eyes flashed up as she heard her name; it was the first time Ichigo had called her anything but "Captain" since the night he'd aroused her to the edge of no return. Struggling to forget the feel of his hands, Rukia said, "If she was about to leave him for another man-not a bad theory, considering what we know of her-that only gives Seno a better motive for murder. He could have killed her and faked the note."

"He couldn't have faked the suitcase. It's been out in that garage for a decade, all right. Nobody can fake that sort of mold and decay."

"Oh, I don't doubt that it's been out there all this time. But who's to say Meiko Kuna packed that suitcase 11 years ago. Seno could have done it to back up his story that she ran away. Think about it. It's possible."

Ichigo took a deep breath. Anything's possible, Bunnyhead, his eyes seemed to say. You're the one who wrote these awful rules. You're the one who can change them.

Rukia told herself she was imagining his mute message. They'd put all this behind them, hadn't they?

"It's possible that somebody else packed it, too," Ichigo continued prosaically. "Somebody other than Seno could have known that Meiko was planning to leave him and could have used the same logic to stage a cover-up when he killed her."

"Or she."

To Rukia's surprise, he gave her a small smile, that damned dimpled smile that always stunned her. In spite of her firm resolutions, her heart did a tiny backflip, and in the emptiness of her secret woman's place she felt a hot rush of awareness of what she'd sacrificed when she'd turned this magnificent man away.

"If Meiko had a lover, he might have been married, too." Rukia raised her eyebrows. "Hell hath no fury, and all that."

"Anything's possible," Ichigo agreed, leaning almost casually against her desk. You and I, for instance. Haven't you had enough time to change your mind?

Fiercely Rukia told herself she was imagining his unspoken pleas tonight. Surely he wouldn't try to seduce her again after all this time!

Rukia couldn't put her finger on it, but there was a change in him this evening. He seemed curiously content. Not exactly smug or hopeful, but somehow satisfied. His face wasn't marred by those deep scowl lines she'd grown accustomed to seeing. Maybe he wasn't seeing somebody else. Maybe he was just relieved because she was moving out tomorrow.

As she studied his broad chest and tough-tender eyes, Rukia sadly acknowleded that it would take a lot more than a change of lodging for her to get over Ichigo. She could change jobs, change professions, change countries, and it wouldn't make much difference. He'd burrowed his way deep into her heart where no man had ever gone before, and he was hunkered down to stay. What she'd give to find a way to have room in her life for police work and Ichigo Kurosaki at the same time! He wasn't just a passing fancy, a mere temptation to indulge in a hot-

"Look, Rukia, I don't know what you've got in mind."

"About what?"

Her alarm seemed to surprise him. "About confronting Seno. Do you think it's important that you go by yourself?"

"I... intended to send you, Lieutenant," she told him honestly. "I once suspected that your intimacy with the family would impede this investigation, but I've come to see that it might be a useful key to solving it."

Ichigo looked touched. "I'm honored, Captain." His voice dropped a notch as he added, "Might I suggest that we go together when you wrap things up here? Even when we don't plan it, we seem to be quite effective playing good cop/bad cop. I think that might work to our advantage in this situation."

Rukia stood up, met his eyes, then glanced away as she realized how clearly he could read her feelings. She was weakening again, wounded by the vision of moving to an empty house when they'd once shared such happy times in their tiny second-floor home. It was always dangerous to be alone with Ichigo... doubly so on this last night. But how much worse could a simple car ride be than sleeping next door to him every night, aching for the feel of his hands on her breasts?

Gingerly she offered, "I guess we do make a pretty good team."

Rukia knew it was a mistake the minute the words were out of her mouth. Ichigo gave her that crazy, dimpled smile-broad and happy this time-as he drawled, "We do, Ru. We make a damn fine twosome."

His eyes told her he wasn't talking about police work. Her pulse told her he had something else in mind tonight.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;

Ichigo drove up to the Kunas house at seven-forty-five with Rukia by his side. He'd spent most of the afternoon secretly setting up his surprise at her new home. Chitose's neighbor's son had already moved all of the elderly lady's furniture into storage, which meant that Rukia expected to move into an empty house. In her desperation to get away from Ichigo, she'd actually planned to spend her first night on the floor in a sleeping bag. She'd told Yoruichi that she intended to purchase furniture over the weekend. Ichigo told himself he was just saving her a little time and money.

But his selections from the Uraharas' basement had not been made at random, and the extra touches he'd added would have been a surprise to his aunt. Chad had probably not been serious when he'd suggested that Ichigo take Rukia back to his place, but the Mexican's comment had started him thinking-not about the dead ends that were closed off to him, but about the options neither he nor Rukia had yet considered. Over and over again Ichigo had thought about their situation- the sense of home they'd once experienced in their virtual shared suite, the incredible emptiness that would assail him when she moved out tomorrow, the loneliness that would swallow her up in that vacant house tomorrow night. And in the wee small hours of the morning, Ichigo had suddenly realized that he had to find a way to keep her by his side.

If he couldn't take Rukia to his place, he'd take his place to Rukia.

He was glad to have some time alone with her tonight to spell out his long-term plans. Such openness would probably be a mistake, but some mistakes were unavoidable. And just about any mistake was preferable to losing Rukia altogether.

Ichigo carried the decrepit suitcase up the well-shoveled walk and rang the bell, feeling guilty about coming to Seno's house as a cop in pursuit of evidence that might ultimately convict him. Rukia stood perfectly still beside him but did not speak. She was so close he could smell her clean soapy scent. So close he could have leaned down and kissed her if she'd turned her head.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her desperately! But somehow he found the strength to face the other way.

"Why, Ichigo!" Mashiro said as she opened the door, her kind hazel eyes lacking their usual warmth when she spotted Rukia. "What a pleasure to see you."

"Good to see you, too, Mashiro. You remember Captain Kuchiki?"

Now Mashiro's eyes were definitely guarded. "Of course, Captain. Please come in-and let me take your coats."

After divesting them of their winter wear, they walked silently to the living room. Ichigo was still carrying the suitcase, but Mashiro didn't seem to have noticed it.

"Is your father here, Mrs. Muguruma?" Rukia asked in a clipped tone.

"Well, yes, he is. He's upstairs reading at the moment."

"Would you please call him down here?"

Mashiro licked her lips. "Well, of course I can, Captain. Is something wrong?" Her worried gaze flickered back to Ichigo.

He felt terrible. He cared for this woman. He didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to tell Rukia not to play bad cop.

"Please go fetch him, Mashiro," he said gently. "This won't take long."

"You're not going to arr..." She stopped, horrified at her own words.

She hadn't said it, not outright, but Ichigo knew exactly where her thoughts were heading, and he was sure that Rukia knew it, too.

At that moment Seno appeared at the top of the stairs, waved a cheery hello and came on down. He was a strong man, still clinging to the tail end of his prime. Mashiro turned to face him, visibly trembling. "Ichigo's here, Dad," she said. "And Captain Kuchiki wants to talk to you."

Ichigo watched the same look pass over Seno's face that he'd seen on Mashiro's when she'd first caught sight of Rukia on the porch. It wasn't the look of guilt, exactly, but it was most certainly more than everyday fear.

"We found this suitcase on the outskirts of town today, Mr. Kuna," Rukia said in her sternest voice. "We think it might have belonged to your wife. We'd like you to identify it."

To Ichigo's intense relief, Seno's face relaxed. Whether he recognized the suitcase or not, he clearly did not think it held any secrets that could be used against him. He made no comment as Ichigo laid it flat and opened it, revealing the moldy remnants of leather shoes, silk blouses, and a dramatic hat with gold trim.

It was Mashiro, much to Ichigo's despair, who suddenly covered her face with both hands and began to cry. She'd been 16 years old when she'd last saw her mother, but it was obvious that she still held that hat in some secret part of her memory. Ichigo wondered what else she remembered... and what she was trying so hard to forget.

AN

FINALLY! That took me forever since I'm all sick, and it's hard to concentrate and stuff. But still, I think it turned out okay. I know a lot happened in this chapter so feel free to drop any questions you might have involving the plotline in your reviews and I'll try to get back to you.


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